At W
by DocteureCrane
Summary: Dan and Blair spent ten years away from the other after she had left him for Chuck Bass. Dan is now an editor of W magazine and has moved on from her but circumstances bring them back together in the place where it all began.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello readers. This is my attempt at a post-5x24 fic! I have read some post-5x24 fics and although I absolutely loved them, they didn't make Dan angry enough to my liking. If anyone knows of a fic where Dan is a little mean to Blair, feel free to recommend. I will read and I will review. **

**But yes, I thought I would write my own angry Dan fic with a twist to it. He is back at W, the place where it all started for him and somehow they are reunited. But he is the one in power. **

**Anyways, I was heavily influenced by Ugly Betty for this one, especially season 4 where Betty works for Matt who is her ex-boyfriend and who is quite mad at her. I want you to forgive any mistake or anomaly. I am not too familiar with the magazine business but I try my best.**

**Please do review if you can!**

"Mr. Humphrey?" His assistant called from behind the glass doors of his new office.

"Yes Viv?" He replied, tossing away a document-holder filled with mediocre article after the other. This was why the magazine was not doing so well. Pretty images of models dressed in couture could sustain a fair amount of interest but the textual content was the backbone of each issue. And _W_ had begun to lose its backbone, hence why he had been hired to retrace it.

Vivian, his assistant, had transferred with him from _The New Yorker_, where had held the post of Cultural columnist for a good three years. He had requested to have Vivian come with him, insisting that he could not be forced to get used to another person when she already knew all of his ways, indulgences and manners.

To be honest, Dan had not been too inclined to accept the post. First of all, his position at _The New Yorker _was snug enough for him. He had become well acquainted with its building and people. Writing about cultural events had turned out to be his vocation after all and what better profession than that? He was paid to critique movies, plays, concerts. He had attended close to everything, from _Cirque du Soleil_, to Lady Gagapassing by Miller's _A view from the Bridge _and the latest Nolan movie. He had not expected his reviews to be that well liked but apparently, and quoting here the words of Robert Hedlund,his superior, "there was a polite sarcasm that drew everyone in without offending them too much". His writing had become indispensable to the cultural section, as he had been told, and so, he endorsed the vocation.

Fashion had never been his thing. It had always been Jenny's but she was not in New York anymore. It seems that she had taken the ban personally and had decided against the city for as much as she could avoid it. When he told her about _W_'s offer, she had been mildly enthusiastic and had recommended him to take the job without any particular insistence. He wasn't surprised at Jenny's lack of now worked for a makeup company, (doing what, he wasn't exactly sure of) but her days in fashion had been over for a long time.

The only time in his life where he had been somehow aware of clothes was the time where names like Waldorf and Van der Woodsen had mattered to him. Now he knew better and he had burned them off his memory.

And _W _held too many memories about one of those two, and he thought he could not suffer to be reminded of anything now that he had just managed to forget.

Of course, he had changed his mind after a fair amount of thinking. _W _was doing fine with the fashion aspect but it was struggling a little in its literary creativity, having apparently had dreadful troubles among the previous writers and editors which ended in a mass firing of every troublesome element. Consequently, assistants, fashion counsellors, stylists and anyone who had one ounce of talent in writing had been forced to take over the articles, interviews and research of that department, resulting in a mishmash of incoherent articles, misplaced pictures and badly edited writing.

Apparently, he had become important enough to be heard of and so, they offered him the position of editor.

_That_ was quite enough to make him reconsider his stance.

Being an editor would look nice on his resume but it would also challenge him. He loved reviewing but he had grown a little too comfortable in his position. He needed a little more power, a little more space to manoeuvre and create. And as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted a little more control.

He would be working for an entirely different department than where Epperley had positioned them. He would have his own office and he needed not visit the closet, the interns' room or the blog space unless he really had to.

Most importantly, she was away, far away. A _Bass, _from what he had heard five years ago after he had lost control and decided to check the magazines against his better judgement. Ever since that moment, he had grown too bitter to care. He had forgotten, or at least he had made himself forget, about her. She was in Paris, working for her mother's company, living the life she had always wanted and there was no reason she should come back to New York.

Vivian came in with a paper in her hand. She was a pretty woman of about two years younger than him who had been named after the actress; a fact that he knew from the many afternoons they had shared together back at _The New Yorker_'s office where work had been lacking. Like him, she had no particular interest in dressing up but she did try her best now that they had transferred to _W. _Apparently, assistants were required to dress well, and just because she had come on a special request, she was no exception. Today, she wore large trousers with a polka dot shirt tucked in. It was nothing original compared to the other workers, but it suited her to no end.

"They still haven't installed your name on the outside." Vivian commented as she handed him the paper.

"That's alright. I am not too full of myself yet to care. " He replied with a smile.

Vivian sat on his desk. The two of them never have had any boundaries. He put the paper aside, more inclined to complain about his day than to peruse its content.

"You know what? I have been asked almost twelve times to go to the closet today." He said.

"That's less than yesterday. It's an improvement. Continue refusing and I'm sure they will stop to care."

"Over my dead body they will!" He replied. "I'm so close to giving in to them just so that they can shut up. I don't even care about fashion, for God's sake. They keep saying it's because most of the articles are based on the clothes, and that if I am to _understand _them, I must see the merchandise, or whatever."

Vivian threw the eraser that had been on his desk towards him.

"Stop complaining!" She exclaimed playfully. "Do you know how long it took me to get my hands on this shirt? I hate shopping with a passion and I looked everywhere and tried everything before I got something passable. And I'm not even an editor!"

She shuddered theatrically before getting back to a more serious composure. He noticed she had tried to match her nail polish to the light pink of her lips.

"It looks to me like you are starting to enjoy it." He pointed out as he took one of her hands to illustrate what he meant.

The moment was short, but for a second, they both looked at each other as if conscious of something they had never thought of before. He felt his heartbeat rise a little, a reaction he had not experienced since Blair. Vivian was so different from her. So different in every aspect. She was laid back, enjoyed fast-food and take-out more than he did, was indifferent to fashion and appearances and loved critiquing with humour everything and anything, even the most ordinary objects. Vivian was intellectually hilarious and he realized that he was comfortable with her. May be too comfortable.

He released her hand a little too abruptly and cleared his throat, fully conscious that he would sound uneasy.

"So what is that paper for?" Dan inquired as a distraction.

"It's an official subpoena asking you to show yourself to the closet." Vivian joked.

This is why he had wanted her to come with him. There was never a moment of awkwardness with her.

"No. It's just a list of the people you will be interviewing today. I have marked the time you should expect them at." She got off from her seat on the desk. "I won't be there to show them in. You know, with my mother's birthday and all. Got to go get the cake before I forget about it. So I will leave them a message on the desk, asking them to just knock. Should be fine?"

"Yeah, it'll be fine." Dan replied." I don't know if your mother knows me, but wish her a happy birthday from me."

"Oh, don't worry, she knows you." Vivian replied with a grin before leaving.

He couldn't help but smile back.

**Dan didn't check the paper until well after he has had his lunch. **He had taken the metro to his favourite sandwich place, putting as much distance as he could between him and _W_'s cafeteria. It was as if he had been in that movie with Anne Hathaway, _The Devil Wears Prada_, for his experience was exactly the same. He knew people judged him for his looks but also for getting the position that many had been aiming for. He didn't particularly like to eat there without Vivian to keep him company.

His office awaited him still and he brought himself to leave the security of his favourite restaurant to get back to business. Only three people were expected to come for interviews today but it would look very bad if he made them wait.

He set down his coffee on the desk, put his coat in the small closet of his office and finally, took a look in the mirror.

"Oh well, Vivian is right." He said to himself. "I am an editor of this magazine. I should look the part."

He combed his hair with his hand, trying to straighten any rebellious curl into rest. He had shaved at least, and although he had neglected to wear a tie, his shirt was freshly ironed and neutral enough to prevent any form of negative criticism.

He sat down on the leather minimalistic chair. Everything was minimalistic at _W_. Every furniture, every desk, every chair , every plant. He hadn't liked that very much. His small cubicule-like office at _The New Yorker _was much more cozy, with its wooden table and funky posters on the walls that he and Vivian liked to change once in a while. The only thing he had taken with him was the coffee mug he had received from Blair as a thank you gift for saving her from the claws of Louis. It was a pretentious porcelain thing, shaped like a large teacup with a quote from Oscar Wilde. _A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal_. She had said, in a note, that the message was ironical, that she hadn't meant to warn him against his honesty. She was the one who had been in denial, hence why the truth always hurt her.

Dan had kept it. Although he had strived to forget her, the cup was a reminder of her deepest flaw. Her denial. Perhaps, he wanted to believe that it was denial who had sucked her back to Chuck Bass and not the feeling that he himself was not good enough. He liked the cup. It was practical and somehow, it looked pleasurably odd in the puristic decor of his office.

He took a sip of the coffee he had made himself as quickly as he could, taking advantage of the fact that after one in the afternoon, the cafeteria was not so crowded. Then, he unfolded the paper Vivian had given him. The two first names were unknown to him; a certain Flora Waduju and Lee Holmes. The last name, however, caused him to swallow his coffee in a most hurtful manner.

_Blair Waldorf._

He re-read the name again and again, making sure there was no spelling mistake that could make this Blair Waldorf another one; one whom he does not know. It was in vain. The letters stayed the same and his hands were seized with a light trembling. He had to put down the mug.

_This is not possible. This can't be possible. Why would she come here? Why? To torment me, isn't it? I'm sure it is. After ten years and that book of mine, she should be ravenous for an opportunity like this. _

Then, he realized that she might not know. His new position had deserved a few mentions here and there in the papers, considering he still remained an author of two best-sellers even if it's been close to eight years since he published anything remotely good. But in most cases, many were still in the dark about him being an editor. _W_ had at least ten of them, and although a lot were fired, he was still a newcomer. Originally, he wasn't even going to take care of the interviews. He had judged it too early and himself being still a stranger to such a position of power, and had wanted someone else to take care of it. It was only at the last minute that Dan finally agreed that there was sense in the proposition, considering he would know better what was best for the writing.

He was engulfed in a storm of emotions and the desk seemed to be his only anchor to a clear , he stood up and checked himself on the mirror before he realized that he should not care how he looked like. The years had certainly given him a more mature look but he was not so different from when he had seen her last. He had allowed his hair to grow in a rebellious move and had never gone back to short hair. Vivian said that he looked like Tim Burton, but in a good way.

Blair would hate it.

He didn't care.

He would interview her, like he did with anyone else. He would be civil and uncaring. He didn't _have _to hire her anyways and after she leaves, he would go back to live a life in which she does not exist.

**The two first applicants were not given his full attention and he felt a little guilty about it. **He remembered that Flora was eager to no end and really liked the only article of hers that his mind had focused on. The other guy unfortunately, was almost entirely disregarded. As time approached the last interview, Dan had begun to feel too preoccupied to care. He promised himself he would give Lee Holmes another chance whenever his mind was clear.

Then Lee had left and he had fifteen minutes of suspense before she would make her appearance.

New York suddenly became fascinating. He stood watching it from his bay window, finding calmness in the relentless movement of cars, taxis and people. This city made him who he was. Its people. _Her._

The knock was finally heard. It was confident. He had always known her. She loved interviews. She loved any opportunity to demonstrate her knowledge and her talents.

"Come in." He said and he was surprised that his tone was so calm, so undisturbed.

Her steps resonated. His nostrils were immediately invaded with her perfume, the same she had always worn. Some things simply did not change.

"I'm sorry if I am little late." She said in that voice he had almost missed.

He turned to face her slowly, not wanting to be too dramatic.

Her face registered a plethora of emotions, each surpassing the previous was shock, surprise, anger, embarrassment and (he was not sure of that one) happiness.

As for himself, he hadn't known what to expect from seeing the brown hair he had loved so much considerably shorter,in a sort of Anna Wintour wore a deep blue skirt with the usual expensive blouse on top. Her eyes were still as beautiful and as expressive. Her mouth was still as tempting as he had ever found it.

But the sight of her, all of her, did not incite any good feelings of nostalgia. He had feared his romantic heart would fail him; that it would engender the wrong feelings of pleasure. Instead, he felt anger. A pure, cold, indifferent (if that was possible) type of anger.

"Dan?" She asked quite uselessly. "Is this a joke?"

"Take a seat." He replied as he took his own.

Blair looked a little taken aback by his tone and he enjoyed every minute of it. He kept his eyes on her the whole time, determined to show her that he was no more the sensitive Dan Humphrey of their school days.

"Oh, I see." Blair intoned rather angrily."I'm guessing I should just leave right now. I'm not sure why you even bothered to allow me in. As if I can't see that you're dying to get back at me. _Outside _wasn't enough right?"

Blair made a move to stand up and if he hadn't been fighting his anger, he would have almost laughed at the scene. She had always been theatrical. He prided himself in being able to keep his cool while she so obviously could not.

"First, I am the one who asks the questions here." Dan said as calm as ever. "_Take a seat._"

She obliged.

"Look Dan." Blair almost whispered. "I'm sorry—"

He realized she mistook his words for a proof of forgiveness, or something like that. He wasn't going to let that happen.

"Secondly," Dan carried on as if he hadn't heard her. "I have no idea what you are about. I'm here to interview you, just like every other candidate. So let us start."

There was hurt, that seemed magnified by her large, expressive eyes. What did she expect of him? Friendliness? A treatment of favour? Or may be a lengthy talk about their feelings? It was not going to happen.

"So why do you wish to work for this magazine specifically?" Dan asked, beginning the routine of his interviews.

"I love fashion and I love writing. I think you can remember—"

"I don't remember anything." He cut her, still staring her straight in the eyes.

There was an understanding between the two of them. She finally realized what needed to be done. He wanted to share with her no memories, no experiences. They had to be detached and estranged, like strangers who had never met. It was the only way he could allow her in his presence.

"I have been in an internship for _W_ prior to my becoming the head of Waldorf designs."

"What did you accomplish in your internship?" He asked.

"I learned the ropes of magazine work. I was in charge of the blog and the other interns, as well as being the organizer of an event." Blair replied mechanically, looking at him with a hint of a raised eyebrow, as if challenging him to lose his cool in the recollection of their time together.

"It seems like a lot of work." He commented.

"I had help from a _friend_." She said pointedly.

There was a pause. They just stared at each other, her eyes burning with expectation. _She still believes I will give in. _

"Then?" He brought himself to say.

He swivelled sideways without taking his eyes off her. He could not see below her waist but he heard the slight tapping of her heel on the stony ground. She was nervous. _Good. _

"Then I moved on to the management of my mother's company. I took over as fashion director and coordinator and tried to create a younger image for the company. I don't think I need to go into details. I also attended various fashion shows, have contacts with many designers such as Vera Wang, Donatella Versace and Lagerfeld. But my

interests have shifted a while ago and, I decided that I wanted to write more."

The last words she spoke were intriguing to him. He had never thought her to be interested in writing. To relinquish such a position as hers, the head of a designer brand and to throw away Paris, the city of her romantic dreams only to become a mere writer in a magazine that had probably showcased her name as influential…Well, it all seemed rather drastic. She had never struck him as a writer, mainly because she was always in the habit of directing and controlling everything around her. He remembered the moment they had seen each other in _W _for the first time, how she had whispered under her breath that it was _hers _and that _he should back off_. How ironic.

"I need to see your portfolio." He stated.

"Of-of course." She began rummaging in her expensive bag, taking out a leather document-holder.

She handed it to him. He saw no ring on her fingers.

Blair had followed his gaze and as if self-consciously, she retrieved her hand to hide it behind the desk. It was becoming harder not to ask questions.

He skimmed over the content of her portfolio, all articles and pieces of writing taken from chronicles she used to hold for diverse magazines, including _Vogue, Nylon, Metro London. _They mostly dealt with fashion but some had economical, environmental and political undertones.

He never read all the content of one's portfolio but he made an exception for her, knowing that she would find the wait excruciatingly painful. The tapping of her foot was all that could be heard, as well as an occasional sigh that felt too forced to be real.

Until then, he hadn't paid much attention to his heart but it was for good reason. His organ was beating tempestuously against his ribcage and if he had allowed it to take control,he would be trembling all over from the emotions battling inside him. His calm and composed facade was something he had worked on in case he should ever see Blair Waldorf again because, yes, he had never entirely eliminated the possibility from his mind. God, he had even hoped for it; hoped for a confrontation, for him to yell out all the feelings that had been turned to murk inside him. Thankfully,he's had the good sense to realize that the cold was the best way to hurt her like she hurt him.

When he was done, he had asked her several more questions; questions he already knew the answer to. Her favourite book, play, author. Her thoughts on different journalists and literary critics. Blair answered all those as if he hadn't known the answers. A polite smile stretched on her lips. Her hands were folded on her lap, hidden from him.

"If you are hired, and that is an _if, _you will be expected to work every day. You will share an office with the other writers, so it is safe to say that whatever luxury you were used to will not be offered to you here. I provide the guidelines for the monthly articles but you are free to shoot in ideas and pieces of independent writing which I may choose to reject. Remember my department deals with art and culture, not clothes in particular. I don't tolerate misbehaviour well either. Any scheming, lying, backstabbing _will be _rewarded with its proper punishment. Know those rules very well, if you are called back. On this, have a good afternoon."

Dan turned his chair to face the window, indicating that the exchange was over. He wanted to exhale but he waited for her to be out of the room, out of his proximity.

"I saw you kept the mug." Blair pointed out behind him. "I kept yours too."

Dan didn't answer. He had given her one of his father's mugs, the ones with comical drawings of dogs with text bubbles that had witty lines about coffee and early mornings. After she had spent so much time in the loft, one of them had become her favourite and she would take her tea in nothing else but that one. It had a sleepy schnauzer with an expensive-looking robe that read: "I cannot be expected to wake up early. I'm a Schnauzzzzz." It wasn't even funny but the red satin robe must have done it for her.

He didn't want to think that she had kept that stupid thing for a reason.

Blair left discouraged from further attempts at a conversation by his lack of response.

When he heard the glass door close, he sighed in relief.

"God help me, I'm not actually going to hire her, am I?" He said out loud.

**Chapter ends here! What do you guys think? I want to hear it. I want to hear it all!**

**So please review? I love you all.**

**Also, up next is Blair's point of view!**


	2. The first confrontation

**First: Thank you SO much for the reviews. I am positively overwhelmed by the amount of subscriptions. I never thought this fic would generate so much feedback. All I ask of you is to keep reviewing and suggesting because ultimately, I want my storytelling to please you.**

**Secondly: I need to address some points. First, someone pointed out that I should not make Dan angry for too long. I would like to reassure you, it is not my intention to keep him indefinitely angry. I know Dan is hopeless when it comes to Blair, but my fic is set ten years later and his resent, anger and bitterness kind of got bottled up in him since he never really got a proper break-up. I just want to say that when I mentioned I wanted an "angry Dan" I didn't really mean that he would always remain angry. I just meant that he should be given a chance to act out his feelings before he finally moves past them. With his position of power, it kind of feels therapeutic ;-)**

**Another point that some of you mentioned was Blair's bitchiness. Don't worry about it, Blair is nowhere near being a calm, accepting sort of person. It was just the surprise of the moment that kind of got her short of words. I hope to resolve the issue in this chapter;-).**

**As for Vivian, I have got mixed reviews. Some of you like her and some of you don't but I think she deserves a shot at being a rounded character :-)**

**And finally, I can assure you there will be banter and there will be lighter moments. It's just going to take a small journey to get there.**

**So here is Blair's point of view. **

Blair was finally able to move out of the hotel into her mother's penthouse. She had lost her key in Paris and had never bothered to look for it. Back then, Paris had established itself as her home, her only home. The years had gone by and she had been proven wrong.

Now she hated Paris and she hated _him _more for filthying the beloved city of her dreams.

Some things never changed.

It had taken five days for the doorman to get used to her. He was a new one, young and athletic, eager to do his job right. So he asked her who she was every time, required her to show him her key and when she had not yet obtained a new one, he would call the manager of the building to make sure he was not allowing a stranger inside. The manager thankfully knew her very well and after a week of that nonsense, she was finally able to enter as freely as she chose it.

Her apartment in the Champs-Élysées had been so spacious it made her old home seem little. The place had not changed. Her mother and Cyrus had moved to Italy to open a new branch of Waldorf's designs and the two of them had forsaken the place. Blair remembered her mother saying that the penthouse will always remain their home. She had been right. Blair was home again.

Nothing had been touched since the last time she had been there and from what she understood of her mother's email, three years had passed since it had been visited by anyone. It was so bizarre to be thirty, standing in the place where her twenty years old self used to live. It was her room that had seemed the eeriest of all.

Her bed was impeccably done. There was nothing amiss. Blair wondered if Dorota had been the last person to come here as if to make sure that her job will always be done, even if there was nobody to check.

She walked to the wardrobe and stood in there. There was the DVF printed shirt she had worn to that dreadful party in an attempt to socialize at NYU. Dan had accompanied her.

Chuck's red dress was also there like a warning. Like she wasn't supposed to forget about him.

There was a picture of her and Serena on her vanity. They were smiling, sitting on the steps of Constance. Dan Humphrey's shoulder was showing too close to Serena's but this had been their picture. Not his.

It was funny. She really had no one in New York, even if it was her home.

She had no interest in seeing Serena. Her friend was a model now. Chanel had asked her to be their face. Blair had seen her in some catwalks but she had not spoken to her. Her mother begged her to hire Serena for their company, to make good with her. That was one of the reasons she had left. Years later, and it was still Serena, Serena, Serena.

Dan had shamelessly demonstrated that he would rather swallow arsenic than be in her presence. Oh, she was not going to get the job, that was certain. That interview had been his way of torturing her a little further and she immensely regretted having fallen for it. As if sleeping with Serena and writing that spiteful _Outside _hadn't been enough.

She had been wrong. It took her time to realize it, but yes, she had treated him like the lowest of all like a best friend.

Her apologies had probably never reached him. He had changed his number, blocked her emails and managed to disappear whenever she visited New York. After a few years, she had given up.

You suffer for your own mistakes.

And nobody had suffered more than she had for her choice. He didn't know and he might never know. That was what angered her the most; the fact that he thinks he experienced more pain than she did. Blair wasn't surprised. Dan was a writer. He loved to intensify any emotion he experienced.

Then, she remembered. There was still one person in New York, one person she knew. It's been close to a year since the last time she had spoken to Nate but she knew he was settled in the city. He had been the only one, apart from Dan, to stay true to it. It made her somehow happy.

**The ****_Spectator's _****offices had been upgraded. **The place was no more small but a labyrinth of cubicles and conference rooms. It even had its own cafeteria. Blair thought she would never see the day. People were walking all around from office to office with important papers, talking out loud, drinking coffee and laughing. She walked to his secretary, who was on Facebook, stalking some young attractive black man.

"Hi there." Blair said loudly in order to attract her attention.

The girl turned to face her.

"What?"

_The nerves. How does Nate accept such people to work for him! _

"I'm here to see Nate Archibald. You're obviously his secretary so it's your job to tell me whether I can go in his office or not."

The girl didn't understand her message. She took the phone lazily while her eyes went back to her computer screen.

"Yeah, Nate?" She said. "There's some woman here to see you."

Blair was too happy at the prospect of seeing Nate that she decided to disregard the secretary's negligent behaviour.

"You can go in."

Blair walked into his office without giving a second look to the girl. When she saw Nate, she was flooded with a joy she couldn't explain.

"Blair?" Nate exclaimed from behind his desk.

He unfolded his legs from the wooden surface to put them on the ground so that he could stand up to greet her. She hugged him, unable to say anything intelligible. Finally someone who was happy to see her.

"I missed you so much." She whispered.

"I know. Me too."

He broke their embrace to look at her and noticed the tears in her eyes.

"Woah." Nate exclaimed. "I didn't realize you missed me _that _much."

He laughed awkwardly.

How had he managed to remain beautiful was beyond her. He still looked the same, except his hair was cut really short and he had lost some of his tan.

"What's wrong Blair?" He asked more seriously. "Why are you back in New York?"

She wanted to tell him about everything but he wouldn't understand. Nate wasn't qualified when it came to understanding the subtleties of relationships. She could tell him that Chuck had done it again. That, he could understand. But if she told him exactly what he had done, every single little gesture and comment, he wouldn't get it.

You had to experience it to comprehend why every time she thought of him, her whole body trembled in shame.

"Nothing. Can't a woman just miss her friend?"

"Is it Chuck?" He asked a little more urgently. "God, Blair I always knew you shouldn't have taken him back. He would have made you happy, you know that?"

"Who?"

She knew who he was speaking of. It made her heart beat excruciatingly faster.

"Dan." Nate replied, still holding her shoulders steadily. "You know I mean Dan."

"Aren't you supposed to be defending your friend?" Blair asked.

"But I am! Dan is my friend. I don't know about Chuck anymore. He doesn't live here and he doesn't bother."

She couldn't believe that her first conversation with Nate will have to be about Dan. It seemed she was cursed. She had to _see _him, to hear about him, to _think _about him.

"So you two are good friends now?" Blair asked, still wanting to hear more. "How did that happen? Last I remember, you never got over your portrayal as a hybrid between you and Eric in _Inside. _Mind you, lots of people got burned in that one."

"But not you." Nate reminded her.

She smiled, unable to contain the little parcel of pride, the only good feeling she retained from the whole Dan Humphrey and Blair Waldorf affair.

"Actually, he made it up to me when he published _Outside. _I don't know if you've read it but I'm the only one who came out of the novel looking good. Looking real good." Nate exclaimed with a smug smile. He then stop, raising his eyebrows as if he just understood something. "Hey! May be he loves me? It's finally my turn!"

She slapped his arm while laughing at his joke. She had read _Outside _of course. It was Chuck who had given her a copy, when they were in Paris. He said that she had been right to leave him, that Dan had always wanted to write _Outside_, that he would have put himself before everyone else anyways. It had taken her months before she dared read it.

Chuck had gone away to Italy with some colleagues and her two-weeks break had just started. It had been the perfect time to open the book as he wasn't there to see knew there would be things she would hate, things that would make her cry and she could not allow Chuck to be privy to any of those scenes.

If Dan had been acclaimed for _Inside _by many people, it was nothing like the uproar that _Outside _had caused. It seems he was a much better angry writer than a satirical one. The whole thing was dripping with "acidic frustration", as one of the reviewers had said.

Oh, she could tell. Every single sentence seemed aimed at her, as if the words had twisted themselves out of the page and around her soul, tightening their grip like a madman in a fit of anger. In the book, she was a bitch, a double-faced whore who could not hold herself a minute without thinking of being with a man. He had been intelligent. He had portrayed her as an indecisive, weak, men-dependent young woman. The book had barely mentioned their relationship.

It hadn't been about them. It was about hurting her and he had known exactly how. He wrote her as the girl she was, the one who had panicked about losing Louis and his goddamned royalty, the one who had apparently _used _him to find herself, the one who had left him because she thought her worth lay at Chuck Bass' feet. He had attacked the very things she hated about herself, had emphasized every lamentable flaw and every shameful memory. She had cried in the emptiness of her apartment, unable to find comfort in Paris' lights and knowing that Chuck's presence wouldn't have changed much anyway.

Nate was the only one who had been given a nice portrayal. He had ended the story with the protagonist, both drinking a beer as two independent men, free of the likes of her and Serena. The last chapter of the book had been a bromance fairytale, actually well-written, and the final positive note of a work that only had a few of them.

She envied him.

Nate gave her a tour of the place, trying hard not to sound too enthusiastic. He had done very well for himself and everywhere he went, he was greeted by his coworkers. The atmosphere was entirely different from the one in her previous job.

_May be I should work for him. Why not? _

"Nate?" His secretary had shouted from the other side of the large room. "Your wife is waiting for you in your office."

"Wife?" Blair exclaimed in shock. "Wait, you're not married. You can barely hold a girl for more than two months. No offence."

Nate looked uncomfortable. He fiddled with his tie, avoiding her gaze and trying hard to find someone who could be used as a distraction. In seeing that nobody could help, he resigned himself to address the topic.

"I'm older now Blair, and I know what I want. Please don't make it too hard for me. That's why I didn't tell any of you. Well, any of you who would care. Dan knows."

"Dan knows! Dan knows?" She repeated almost angrily. "I am your friend too! I know I wasn't here, but you could have told me. I can't believe you went all secret wedding on me. _Me_! "

"You wouldn't have approved." He pleaded in his defence. "You're a hard one to please. You would have convinced me otherwise!"

"Sometimes, you don't know what is good for yourself alright?" Blair replied as she followed him to his office.

"What are you doing?" He asked her warily.

"I'm coming to meet your wife!"

Nate looked like he was not going to allow it for a millisecond before his expression changed for resignation.

**It turned out Nate had married Vanessa Abrams. **Or at least, that's who seemed to be the woman who stood leaning against the desk of his office. Blair was pleasantly surprised before she checked herself and realized that this was a person she didn't really hold high in her esteem. Vanessa had gained a little weight but it suited her nonetheless and made her cheeks full and her face rounder. She wore dark purple pants with an emerald green silk top that was adorned with a bow made of fabric. Blair found herself liking her suede wedges and her hair, which was as black as always. She looked nothing like the Bohemian hipster of their teenage days.

"Blair?" Vanessa exclaimed before looking at her husband in frustration. "How did you think this could be a good idea? I thought we decided to wait before telling anyone?"

"Hey! She followed me!" Nate defended himself. "It's okay, we're all adults here right?"

He looked at the two of them warily, walking towards the space separating them as if to become the mediator.

"Just how exactly did this happen?" Blair inquired, taking a seat and folding her legs.

Vanessa was watching her, visibly confused.

"What?" Blair exclaimed. "Just because I despised you for a good two years, then forgot completely about your existence, doesn't mean I will be disagreeable."

"Alright. You will have to forgive me for being wary." Vanessa said. "But if you must know, Nate and I met again a year ago here in New York. I had just come back to attend the Independent Film Festival and he happened to be there. God knows why. Events like that are more like Dan's thing."

A small silence followed. Apparently, Vanessa was not a stranger to what had happened either. Blair felt she was being judged again, knowing full well that this woman would always be on Humphrey's side.

"Yes, I was there because of the magazine. It had lots of interesting people, who had good quotes for our events section." Nate said quickly in order to distract them. "Vanessa was going to have her own movie screened so imagine my surprise at seeing her introduce it."

"I asked him out." The dark-haired girl said. "I didn't want him to slip between my fingers another time. It was so awkward."

"No, it wasn't!" Nate defended with a laugh.

Vanessa looked at him pointedly.

"We had nothing to say. And then I went on a ramble about why I was so sorry. It was horrible, Nate."

"Ugh, please!" Blair exclaimed, unable to sit there and watch them look at each other with adoration. "Ok, I get it!"

Nate was then called away by his secretary (who had just barged in, cellphone in hand and looking at the screen entirely indifferent to the people inside) and Blair was left with Vanessa alone. That was awkward.

"So..I'm really digging the bob." Vanessa commented a little awkwardly.

"Thanks. I like your outfit, surprisingly."

They both smiled before turning their gaze away. Blair chose to observe the plant in the corner, as if she could find anything interesting in its dehydrated leafs. She planned on leaving soon but there was no way to make an exit without appearing impolite. After a while however, Vanessa spoke again.

"So, I am not suggesting we should be friends or anything, but I want you to know that I have changed. I know better than to judge. And you are Nate's friend and I wouldn't do anything to change that."

She was sincere, Blair realized. If she had to admit it to herself, she was kind of glad that it was Vanessa who got Nate in the end. She did broaden Nate's horizons and pushed him to be more intellectual after all. And somehow, she now noticed what would have been intolerable for to admit, that they were adorable with each other. Or may be it was her own heartache that made everything else seem good. But Blair had to clear things out nonetheless.

"You most probably read _Outside_." She said impassively. "I would have thought that you would be team Humphrey on this one."

"Both Nate and I are really close to Dan. I knew he loved you the first time I read _Inside _and I can't say I approved of you, but the book did make me change my mind a little. That's why I thought it was worth being , I heard of _Outside. _And I read it too of course."

"So you know what I've done then?" Blair stated.

"It wasn't clearly stated in the books, but Nate did tell me, yes. Dan doesn't like to speak about it so I got nothing from him." Vanessa answered. "It wasn't very nice of you."

_Here was the judgement. I was becoming worried it had actually entirely disappeared. _

She must have seen the look in Blair's eyes, for she immediately raised a hand in a sign of defence.

"I'm just stating the truth here! But let me finish!"

Blair was then listening to her, trying hard to remain composed. Everything revolved around Dan, it seems. She wondered if he even thought of her.

Probably not.

"I know people make mistakes that we all wish others would finally come to accept and move on from. You surely remember the whole Juliet fiasco? I spent all these years in Spain trying to forgive myself for it. I lost friends and most important of all, I lost Dan. I even made a short film about it. Well, no, more like loosely based on that event, but still!"

"I'd like to see that." Blair said, picturing a bunch of underpaid street actors delivering poor dialogue on an even poorer camera.

"I would show you one day, if you think you're capable of sitting through any of my work. But anyways, my point is, you made a mistake and even if I love Dan with all my heart, I'm not in a good position to judge. I don't like what you did to him. I really don't. But after I read _Outside, _I think he really went overboard. He was mean. Really mean."

Was it possible that Vanessa Abrams actually seemed like someone she could be friends with? Or may be it was the lack of friends that made her feel that way?

She never thought that the girl could sympathize with her. She never thought she would actually meet her again but even then, she had always believed that Vanessa would gloat and feast on this turn of events. Somehow,she thought the Humphrey-Abrams alliance would be born again from ashes upon their mutual hate of anything from the Upper East Side.

"I'm living with my own mistakes, just as you lived with yours." Blair finally replied. "The book hurt me, but nothing would hurt more than what I've done and who I've been. Not just with Dan, but with myself too."

Vanessa smiled. They somehow understood each other and it was very strange.

She felt compelled to tell her about the job interview, about seeing Dan for the first time in years. She wanted to know just how Vanessa stood with Dan, whether he had talked about her often or not, and if yes, what he had said, how he had looked while saying it. If he still _loved her_.

These were all the sort of talks she had enjoyed with Serena when the two of them had been friends.

Apparently, Vanessa was beginning to reveal herself as a person she could get along with. This is what being an adult must mean.

When Vanessa had asked if Blair would like to join them for dinner one day, she surprised herself and Nate (who had finally come back, looking panicked and like he had expected the room to look like a war zone) by saying yes. There were things that stayed the same but there were others that could change after all.

**The call had come as a surprise. **A big, shocking, breath-stealing surprise. A young woman, named Vivian, who had proclaimed herself to be Dan's assistant told her, at about ten in the morning, on a Sunday, that she had been hired and that she had to come to _W_ on the morrow for the orientation session.

"He is fucking with me." Blair said out loud, knowing nobody would hear it.

Her mind was assaulted with questions but in the end, every answer led back to her initial statement. He must be mad to hire her or he had a plan of his own.

This time, she was not going to let herself be played for a fool. She would dress sharp, wear the highest heels she had and show up to the damn place. If Dan had orchestrated some kind of joke to humiliate her, well, she_ would_ retaliate.

When she entered the conference room, she was quite destabilized. She had been walking with a zealous confidence, ready to barge in and give him a piece of her mind but her determination was stopped short by the sight of a group of about five people sitting there. Dan himself was not in the room.

Blair must have looked a little taken aback because one young woman stood up and walked towards her with an encouraging smile.

"Hi there! I'm Vivian. You must be Blair Waldorf,or Blair Bass. I'm not sure what to call you?"

"Blair Waldorf." Blair replied a little too aggressively.

She was not yet divorced but it's been a long time since she had considered herself Mrs. Bass.

"Alright." Vivian said, a little taken aback. "Dan, well Mr. Humphrey should be here soon. Take a seat."

Blair sat down and took out her agenda just to look like she had something to do. She observed that Vivian woman furtively, trying to assess what sort of person she was.

If Vanessa had surprised her with her current fashion sense, Vivian seemed to struggle entirely with hers. Her pink cardigan was a tad too large to look fashionable and combined with the large A-line skirt she wore, her silhouette looked sloppy. Yet, she was pretty. A little too common-looking, but there was no denying the attractiveness of her auburn hair, which, as far as she could tell, was natural.

Now that she was expecting Dan to come, instead of being the one who found him, her determination was turned into nervous dread. Everyone else was talking, getting to know each other but she was too distracted by her thoughts and by _him_, even when he hadn't yet come into the room. Did he reallyhire her? It seemed unreal. Why would he subject himself to her presence? Could she handle to work with him, to see him more often after ten years of estrangement?

When he finally opened the door, her heart stopped for a second. It was as if she was seeing him for the first time. His suit was well-cut and he looked so attractive. More attractive than she had ever found him before. It must have been the passing of time that had bestowed on him the charisma that only men who had lived and experienced things possessed. He had always looked intellectual, but now, he exuded it. She knew she should hate the way his hair stuck out in rebellious curls but she couldn't for the world. It reminded her of the time she used to tease him about it and she dearly missed it.

He walked to the end of the table, far away from where she sat.

"Everyone is here?" He asked Vivian with a smile.

"Yes. You know I threatened them into coming." His assistant replied with a laugh. "Well, no. I didn't have to. I'm sure you were all happy enough to be hired."

The three others laughed with her.

_Look at me, Humphrey. Don't pretend you didn't notice me. _

"Alright." Dan said. "I'm Dan Humphrey, editor of the Arts and Culture section of this magazine. You might know me as the writer of _Inside _and its follow-up _Outside _or from my column in _The New Yorker_."

At the mention of the two books, Blair's heart quickened its pace. He still didn't look at her but she was conscious that she had been the subject of those two books and that the other writers in the room and Vivian, might figure out who she was. Suddenly, this made more sense. This is what he had intended for her.

Dan remained standing. She wished she could stop herself from looking at him but it was impossible.

"So, I guess you all know why you're here. This magazine is struggling a little when it comes to news and articles about the art scene. The last two issues have been a disaster in that aspect."

"I heard they printed the same interview with Tilda Swinton twice." One of the newly hired people commented. It was a young man, who looked like he was twenty-five and who had a notebook opened in front of him, visibly ready to take notes.

"You have done your research." Dan answered, still avoiding to look towards anywhere near her corner. "That was deplorable, but not worse than the articles themselves. At least the interview was prestigious enough to overshadow them."

He paused and addressed Vivian with a look that she returned with a knowing smile. Blair noticed their complicity seemed to extend beyond the realm of a superior and his assistant. It made her uneasy, as if something was too wrong with the picture. She remembered when those looks had been theirs, and theirs only.

Of course, he had moved on.

"Anyways. We start officially on Friday, same place and same time. I want you to do a massive brainstorm. I don't care what it is, just get it out on paper. It can be related to movies, fashion, literature…Just shape it into an idea, a theme or an article you would think can be explored. We need to come up with good features, interesting interviews and also compelling photographs. It's very important that our first try ?"

He was so confident when he spoke. She had never imagined him as a leader but she had the evidence of his qualification right in front of her. Even if he never once looked at her, she did feel included in his speech. She did feel like he considered them a _team_.

"Alright. So any questions?" Dan asked. "I want you to feel comfortable with me. I take any inquiries and suggestions. If you have a problem with the way I do things, come talk to me. I should always be in my office."

_Yeah right, he wants us to feel comfortable. He surely didn't include me in the 'you'. _

Blair wanted to say something to force him to look at her but nothing came to mind. The others asked different questions having to do with everything from the length of the articles to whether or not they will have free passes to different shows and events. Dan answered all of them, even going so far as to diverge into an actual conversation about the latest Lady Gaga concert, which apparently had been as good as her performances in her earlier age. After more than twenty minutes of discussion, during which she was given curious glances from everyone in the room, Dan finally dismissed them.

"Good! So Vivian here will show you to your workplace and also introduce you to the people around. Until Friday then!"

He then left quickly.

Vivian took them through the different departments and offices. Blair had of course already been there and although the place had been renovated extensively, she still remembered perfectly that corner in the closet where she and Dan had decided to establish a truce between them. They were now back to hating each other, except this time, they both had valid reasons. Perhaps, his was more valid. If she hadn't left him that way, if she had valued his friendship enough to break up with him properly, he would have never written that book. He wouldn't have slept with Serena either.

Their workspace turned out to be quite large after all. It was no luxury but each had his own desk with sufficient space for comfort and privacy. The windows were large and gave a good enough view of the city. Dan's office was two rooms away so she felt she could do very well with the separation. Her own office in Paris had been twice this room and bigger than Dan's. She had adorned it with cream-coloured curtains and a long chair that had been crafted especially on her request. Upon her swift departure from the city, she had left the chair behind to whoever would take her spot. It was the only thing she would truly miss.

Blair adopted the desk in the right corner and sat down, trying to visualize a way in which she could personalize the portion of area that was hers. The more she thought about it, the more she found out that there was nothing she could add that would reflect her. Her pictures with Chuck, their wedding and their public outings repulsed her. She had nothing to do with Serena anymore and the friends she had had in Paris would only remind her of moments she didn't like to think about. She settled with bringing in a small translucent vase with a single flower, along with her tea set. Dan would die before he sees his mug on her desk.

**Blair excused herself to go to the bathrooms as Vivian had just reached the archives room in order to introduce them to the archivists who would be very helpful in their research. **As much as she knew that their acquaintance would be essential to her work here, she had to see him.

She reached his office and knocked on the door, her heart pounding.

"Come in." She heard him say.

Blair straightened her back, took a deep breath and arranged her hair unconsciously before stepping in.

"Oh, it's you." Dan uttered in the most indifferent tone she had ever been addressed with. "I can't say I was not expecting this."

He was apparently rearranging some things on his desk. Her mug was nowhere to be seen this time.

She ignored his remark, ignored how every fibre of her wished she could make him smile, make him love her like she knew she would never deserve it. It was hard to remain impassive, but it was harder not to say anything.

"Why did you hire me?" She asked.

His eyes left the books in his hands to look at her like she had distracted him from an important task.

"Why wouldn't I hire you?" He replied, his voice even.

She took a few steps forward, needing to be close to him even when he wished her away. She notice the slight movement of his neck muscle that betrayed his lack of concern.

"You know why Dan." Blair enunciated, her voice gaining confidence. "You know fully well why! After all that happened." She took a step closer, decreasing the distance between them to a meter. "You want me to believe that this has nothing to do with revenge? I wasn't born yesterday and I sure as hell won't fall for your miserable plot to get even on me. You slept with Serena, you wrote your pathetic book, it's time you stop getting back at me alright?"

He had listened to her without any interruption, watching her with his dark brown eyes intently. She found his silence offensive. He should be screaming, he should be losing it with her, like the time they fought in that hotel room. That's what she was used to.

"Say something for God's sake!" She almost screamed. "Say something! I know you're just as angry as I am. Don't think that I am mistaking your coldness for amicability."

"That's where you're wrong." He said taking one step towards her and never once taking his eyes off hers. "You're making this about yourself, as always. And you're wrong. You couldn't be more wrong even if you tried."

He laughed derisively, his lips curling in a mocking smile. Her chest was a trepidation of ragged breathing and rebellious heartbeat.

"You haven't changed you know that? You still think in terms of plotting and scheming, even years after high school. Or may be all this time spent with Chuck rekindled your love for these activities? I frankly don't care. And that's exactly why you're wrong. I have no feelings left in me for you. I don't hate you, I don't dislike you, I don't like you and I sure as hell don't love you. I feel _nothing _for you."

By the time he had finished, he was too close to her, his face a few mere inches away from hers. They stared at each other with intensity, one trying to make the other look away and none of them succeeding. His smell hadn't changed. It was the same perfect combination of coffee and cologne that nobody else could make so attractive and comforting. She wondered what he would do if she kissed him and then she wondered why she would even kiss him. She was supposed to be mad at him.

"So, where does that leave us?" She asked a little shakily.

"I hired you for the good of the magazine. I was told I could not let _Mrs. Bass_ slip away from us." He whispered the name almost venomously."I read your articles and I liked them. This was a logical decision on my part. You will work here and I will respect you as a subordinate. It's quite simple, really."

"What if I don't want to work for you?" She whispered back.

He observed her for a few seconds and she almost thought the prospect didn't please him very much.

"You can just choose to go." He finally said, hunching his shoulders slightly. "Like I said, I would not care."

"See, I have a hard time believing that Humphrey." Feeling bold, she took another step forward until his chest slightly brushed hers."If you hadn't cared, you would have looked towards me today, in the conference room. You wouldn't be acting cold, you would be civil."

She took a deep breath and it made her chest press on his. She could feel his own intake of breath too.

"You are angry Dan." Blair continued. "Just like I am. And may be you have more reasons to be, but—"

"But what?" He cut her. "You would prefer me to scream at you, is that it? In case you haven't noticed, I've put everything in _Outside_. Refer to it and you should be fine."

"NO!"This time she screamed the word before lowering her voice again. "We were friends. You were my _only _real friend and if I stay here, if I take this job, it'll be because I'm willing to try. Don't tell me you haven't thought of this, of us being friends again!"

"Friends?" He repeated as if the concept was strange to him. "Tell me, when you left me for that asshole, did you think of your _friend_? I think not."

"See, we need to talk about this." Blair exclaimed.

"No, we don't you. _You _are talking about this. I think it's quite possible to work together without having to share anything."

"Lie." She snarled.

Why couldn't they move away from each other? She had been the one to seek this proximity but it seems he had wanted it too. If she raised her head, she could kiss him, and if she took one more step, she would feel him in his entirety. Her whole body was traversed with waves of longing mixed with frustration. It didn't help that they stood in the dimmest corner of the office, next to the closet.

"This is a lie, and I will prove it to you. I will work here, for you. We will see if you can keep up this indifference act."

"Oh I will, Blair."

"No, you won't. In fact, I'll be waiting for you to slip up. I'll be waiting for you to call me to your office and scream, scream, scream Humphrey. I'll be waiting for you to get angry about some trivial magazine thing I did wrong and we would all know that it was just a pretext to get your frustration out."

"You'll be waiting a long time. In fact, you should just refuse the job because if that is your sole purpose for taking it, I can tell you you'll be extremely disappointed."

"I won't be." And she said it with so much conviction that it almost seemed to convince Dan himself.

Their chests collided once more, as they breathed in.

He smiled, a little stretch of his lips, barely noticeable but it still made her heart flutter.

"Why are you standing this close to me Dan?" She asked. "That's not how indifference looks like."

"You're the one who approached me." He defended.

"I'm not seeing you trying to walk away." She raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "And you did take a step or two on your own."

For the first time, he had no answer. She felt a surge of satisfaction and she smiled in victory. Dan looked away from her, trying to hide his own smile.

"I can't win with you, can I?" Dan muttered under his breath.

He took a step backward. It suddenly felt much colder in the room. It made her angry. Instead, she walked forward and in a moment of total insanity, cupped his cheek with her hand, gently turning his face so that he looked at her. She felt the softness of his skin, mingling with the rough stubble alongside his jaw. He was too warm, betraying the emotions. She ran her thumb across his cheekbone, rediscovering the track it had been used to, years ago.

This was her being friendly, she convinced herself.

Dan remained still under her touch, although he watched her with confusion. He hadn't expected this. She hadn't expected it herself.

"You can't do this." He whispered so low, almost pleadingly. "Don't do this."

_Oh God, why am I such a trembling mess._ Blair had come in, feeling every bit angry with the man. He had hurt her, even if she had deserved some of it, he had still hurt her. It seemed illogical that she was yearning for him to forgive her, that she was willing to work for it. Her ego had deserted her because she had never needed it with Dan. He had loved her at her worst. Even if _Outside _had caricatured her into all of her flaws, she still knew he had once loved them all. Perhaps, it was that knowledge that prompted her to feel that way, to hope beyond hope, to persevere.

"Why?" Blair inquired.

"Because I don't want you to." He gently took her hand and removed it from his face. "It's not the time."

At this exact moment, his overeager assistant walked in. Dan dropped her hand like it had been on fire and walked away from her as if she had been a pest.

"Oh, Mrs. Waldorf! I was wondering where you have been! I thought someone might have kidnapped you on your way back. It's okay, you didn't miss much. The archivists are kind of boring anyways. Except Sun! Sun is really nice."

Blair muttered an excuse about having had a question for Dan about the salary. She hid herself by searching for something in her bag, hoping her flushed face and trembling would go unnoticed.

"You ready for lunch Dan?" Vivian asked, making Blair throw an involuntary look towards him. He was watching her too, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Yes, let me just grab my coat"

"I take it we won't go to the cafeteria today? Fine by me. I'll go grab my own."

She then left, as quickly as she had come in. Dan walked towards the closet, which was just next to her, this time without looking at her. Blair was going to leave too but she was compelled to say one last thing.

"I will ask one thing only. Don't ever tease me about Chuck. Don't even mention him."

With that, she walked away, still trembling and still very much aware of how much she wanted him.

She felt compelled to be optimistic. He had said it was not the time.

Blair trusted that it meant he still wanted her, whether as a friend or as anything else, it didn't matter. But there will come a time where they could sit together again in front of a movie, doing more talking than watching and just enjoy each other's company.

Until then, she would do her best in her writing.

As soon as she got home, her moleskin notebook was unceremoniously opened and her mind was put to work. It was the first time in years that she enjoyed her job.

**Alright. I do hope that this chapter is to your liking. I'm super nervous right now, especially since so many of you have reviewed and subscribed!**

**I want to clarify something. I'm not a NJBC fan. I don't believe in that bullshit that the show tries to shove down our throats. I truly think that Chuck and Nate will never have a bromance as great as the one Nate has with Dan. I also believe that Blair and Serena should have logically stopped being friends a long while ago. I think that Serena sleeping with Dan basically seals the deal. **

**So instead, I'm remodelling what I feel are the relationships that would truly endure after a 10 years lapse. And I think Nate and Dan is quite a given. As for Nate and Vanessa, I think it might be a little fancy of mine (see I loved Natessa in the show) but it also makes sense. They were a good couple and made each other better. Plus, Vanessa always cared about Dan. I wouldn't want him to have Serena around because it just irks me. I also always thought Blair and Vanessa should have been given a chance to be explored. So I'm doing it now :-). I hope the changes don't put you off. That's just how I picture them after ten years.**

**Anyways, I still haven't yet made Blair into her total bitchy self but you can see hints of it. Also, Chuck did not cheat on her but I will develop more on that in the next chapters. I still want to leave it a bit shady.**

**All I can say is that, after ten years of being with him, Blair regrets a lot of things, which is why she longs for Dan.**

**Anyways, sorry for that short essay of a note! Thank you for reading from the bottom of my heart.**

**Please review comment and suggest :-)**

here...


	3. She is everywhere

**I am getting so spoiled with reviews. It makes me all warm inside. Thank you so very much from the bottom of my heart and let us hope that my future updates will keep you reviewing too :-)**

**I am glad that the Nate/Vanessa thing is doing well with you and that most of you agree that the NJBC is the most preposterous idea in that awful show. I'm sure they will bring it back in the last season and shove it down our throats but I want none of it in my fic. Instead, I want to feature the Nate and Dan bromance, and Vanessa and Blair's evolving friendship. I can't say that the likes of Serena and Chuck won't make an appearance, but I can guarantee that things won't be easy for those two.**

**Anyways, enough rambling! **

He was waiting for Nate, sitting down on the sofa. The evening was announcing itself to be quite packed. The two of them had missed each other, what with the _Spectator _taking all of Nate's time. So when Nate called Dan to organize a Wednesday night off, it was as if he had forgotten how much he needed to loosen up. The plan had been to disregard work entirely, no matter how many times their respective assistants decided to call them on the next morning. Nate had assured Dan that his would be entirely understanding. Dan wouldn't have the same treatment from Vivian. Vivian liked work. They would show up as late as they could.

Nate was supposed to meet him at his loft so that they could go to that little obscure bar Dan always preferred. It has been quite a while since he played pool with anyone. He usually shied away from the activity mainly because it reminded him of the time he had been pining after Serena and that was never a good thing to remember.

Nate was late, as was his usual, and Dan took a random dvd case lying around just to distract himself. _Eyes without a face_, he recognized. He had tried watching it last week but had fallen asleep in the beginning. He felt guilty. Usually, he treated masterpieces with all his attention but the physical and emotional strain of these past few days had turned him into a slug.

He promised himself he would watch it. He also tried not to think that this was a French movie. Those always reminded him of Blair and the way she always liked to watch every French film in its original language, regardless of the fact that her understanding was wobbly.

_She probably speaks excellent French now. Along with Chuck._

What had happened in his office had not changed Dan's stance on anything. He understood why, oh he did. Chuck must have been behind this sudden return to New York. Dan didn't know why he felt a stab of savage pleasure at having being right all this time.

It is not to say that he hadn't wished her happiness. After publishing _Outside_, he had made his peace and willed her to be happy in her choice. He only saw it as fitting that the two of them would end up together. A part of him had given up, had just disintegrated after _Outside_. It was that corner of his mind that had thought Blair would want something else than Chuck, something he could give her. As soon as his book came out, he knew she would be lost to him forever. He had stopped hoping, stopped picturing her with the guy, holding hands and discussing…well he was still unsure of what those two usually talked sex; seems like everything Chuck ever did was related to that.

And now, there was the inevitable triumph at seeing her confirm his thoughts and even the scenario of his book. He had written her end to be alone, Chuck-less and devastated,still unaware of who she was or what she should have been. The only problem was that she was brought back to him, whether by fate or by Blair's own will, he could not know. Somehow, he knew that she was not alone.

He was resentful but he doubted himself above all. He could only try so long to be impassive, to pretend like, despite his anger, he still had a little hope brewing in him.

Dan sighed quite loudly. Until Friday, he would not think about her. That was his resolution.

Nate finally arrived fifteen minutes after the appointed time, looking slightly dishevelled from the wind outside.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He exclaimed right away before Dan could even put a word.

"Hey I'm used to it by now. Wasn't going to say anything." Dan said, grabbing his khaki peacoat.

Nate still looked apologetic. They left the loft, locking the door behind.

"Look, I have nothing against Brooklyn, you know me." Nate began. "But can't you just go back to living in the city? It really makes it easier not to be late."

"I'm sure you'd still manage to be anyway." Dan joked, trying to punch him lightly on the arm but failing as Nate was always quicker to intercept.

He had moved out of the loft for five months, three years ago when he had heard that Blair would be coming to New York briefly for the holidays. _Outside _had been published for a good few years and he had no desire to confront her, so he had told Nate he would momentarily relocate during the three months of her stay. Nate had collaborated with no question. Dan knew he could count on him. Although he was not the brightest when it came to relationships, he still understood that Dan was unable to face Blair, ever.

They stayed in the bar for a good while, Dan drinking and remembering the times while his friend abstained since he was going to be driving was adamant on helping Dan in his quest for love so he tried advertising his friend's singleness to every lady who passed by. Usually, the girls showed more interest in Nate himself, who proudly showed his ring as a sort of shield from their advances. Thankfully, he could not get too tipsy since they had to join Vanessa for the midnight screening of one of her films. Besides, the women around were not exactly his type. He could tell just from the fact that they all shamelessly gravitated around Nate, even though he clearly made it known that he was taken.

He caught himself thinking about Vivian. When they had gone for lunch, his head was still full of Blair, of her soft hand on his cheek, of the slight brush of her breasts against his chest and the way they had been so close. Too close.

Dan didn't think Vivian had become so perceptive of his changes of mood, but as soon as they sat at the table of that same sandwich place he always liked to eat at, she asked him what was wrong. She had looked particularly pretty that day, with her auburn hair loose and falling like a fiery mane on top of her shoulders. He could see that her outfit had not been a success, perhaps because Blair's impeccable dress style made everyone else around look shabby.

He had debated briefly in his mind before settling on a lie. He wanted no one to be aware of the girl who had pulled two books out of his writer's hands. What would she think of having her around? How would she react? Vivian had read both books but she never got to know who Claire really was and he was not ready to let her.

Instead,he told her Blair was a friend of his ex, something that was not entirely a lie, and that he had never been on good terms with her since they had broken up. Vivian was satisfied in that answer but Dan could see the curiosity in her light green eyes. She was smarter than that short answer but also more sensible. She knew he didn't want to talk about it and so, she changed subject.

A rush of affection passed through him as he thought of how hard she had tried to distract him, and eventually, she had succeeded. As the eternal nerd that she was, she began a long discussion on the three Batman movies from Christopher Nolan before announcing to him that he had gone back on his decision about ending the series. Her merriment at the announcement was contagious and he soon joined her in the guessing of the next featured villains and whether or not Christian Bale was too old to reprise the role. They ended up writing theories and ranking the villains in order of their likeliness of being featured in the movie. In the end, they both agreed that The Riddler would most likely be chosen seeing as the Penguin was a bit too comical for Nolan's world.

"You shouldn't try too hard for me." Dan told Nate after they left. "I don't think I'll meet my match in a bar."

Nate seemed almost outraged at his statement.

"What's wrong with the girls in this bar?" He defended. "Or in any bar? That's where most hookups originate buddy. Don't think you can be as lucky if you sit in a library reading a book. Come on Dan!"

He understood that most of Nate's hookups during that period before Vanessa showed up had taken place in a bar. Lola had dumped him for some aspiring actor who had not yet been featured in any movie. Apparently, coming into her money had also lessened Nate's value in her eyes. His friend had then taken to roaming bar after bar, looking for game and absolutely getting it (because who would say no to him?) before he sobered down, realizing that the _Spectator _would not be managed by itself.

"I'm not looking for a hookup." Dan muttered in reply.

Nate looked at him with understanding in his blue eyes. He then pressed a firm hand on his shoulder in reassurance.

"Hey, you'll find ? I should have known you'll never change. You'll always want commitment."

"And I should have never known that you _would _change. I mean, marrying someone. I always thought you'd be that cool bachelor all your life."

"Yeah, I don't even know how that happened to be honest. It's just, when I saw her again, it kind of clicked in my mind. She's the only girl with whom I've felt comfortable, you know? I wanted that again."

Dan noticed how Nate was smiling for the whole Brooklyn to see. He didn't doubt that he loved Vanessa.

"Actually," Dan began, as he thought of the idea of comfort in a relationship. "I think I might be liking someone. I mean, she is really nice and smart, and she has this nerdy side that I find endearing. And, like you said, I'm comfortable with her."

"Then go for it!" Nate almost screamed like a gladiator who just won his combat. "What are you waiting for! Who is it?"

"My assistant, Vivian. You know her."

"Assistant, heh?" Nate said suggestively, elbowing him lightly.

He felt a rush of embarrassment from Nate's word. It was truly the first time he admitted to liking her and it made him nervous. He had not liked anyone for quite a while and he was rusty with feelings that involved love and affection. He had become much more accomplished at anger and resentment. Furthermore, there was Blair, who had barged into his life like electrical interference and he knew not how to deal with anything.

When they reached his car, Nate became suddenly silent. Dan had been speaking for five minutes about Vivian until he realized that his friend was slightly preoccupied.

"What's wrong? Don't tell me you forgot the address of the cinema again? Vanessa will butcher us on tape if we show up late!"

Nate sighed a little awkwardly, keeping his eyes on the street.

"I really don't want to say this, because I know you've told me we should never speak of her again. But I really have to, I mean, what if you bump into her somewhere…You'll be taken by surprise and you'll just ramble paragraphs after paragraphs of excuses and I really want you to be prepared! So here it is: Blair is back in New York and she'll be staying for good. Or at least, that's what she told me."

Nate eyed him sideways as he expertly took a left turn. From his tone, one would have guessed he was speaking to a lunatic on the brink of jumping off a cliff.

He knew she would visit Nate eventually. Nate was neutral. Nate was Switzerland. He didn't hold grudges for long. He didn't get mad when you fail to contact him for years.

"I know."

"You know?" Nate replied with relief. "God, that's good. Wait, how do you know?"

"She works for me."

There was a distinct screech of the tires as Nate almost missed the next turn in his surprise. A few people on the streets gave them curious glances.

"Right, she works for you." Nate stated like he felt clever for figuring out that Dan had been fooling him. Except he hadn't.

"No, I'm not joking. I hired her after she came to an interview."

He didn't know why his heart was beating fast so he attributed it to Nate's quasi-dangerous turn of the car.

"You know how insane that sounds? I mean, we're not allowed to speak about her for years and then you just go ahead and hire her. Are you trying to get her back? What about Vivian! I thought you said you liked Vivian."

"I do!"

"Then why did you hire her? It doesn't make sense. I'm so confused."

He sounded so lost, Dan couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Oh, so it was a joke after all?" Nate reasserted with a little frown that said he didn't like being taken for an idiot twice in a row.

"No, I did hire her." Dan said, not particularly looking at his friend.

He was dreading the speech that would ensue, the one where Nate would bring up the matter of his feelings, his book and the significance of everything. He couldn't blame him. He spent most of the past ten years promptly avoiding her name and turning suddenly deaf whenever she was mentioned. Yet, he was not ready to _think_. He was not willing to examine the many possibilities and implications of his decision. He just wished that everyone, including him and Blair, could just accept the situation as it was: he hired her because she was a great asset to the magazine and she accepted to work for him. That's it. He wanted to hear nothing else.

"Look, despite what appearances may say about what I feel for her, I'm actually pretty cool with it. They told me I _should _hire her and so I did. She's a good writer and she's been in the fashion business for a while. It would be helpful for her to be in my team. I can barely tell Paul Smith from Tom Ford, so I'll let her take care of that. This has nothing to do with feelings. It'd be like…like you hiring that quarterback from that team who made New York lose at the Superbowl. Even if you hate him, you have to admit he is a good asset. I told you I'm entirely indifferent. She could flaunt Chuck in front of me for all I care. I've moved on. I like Vivian."

Nate kept giving him looks while he spoke, torn between analyzing his friend's countenance and keeping his eyes on the road. It was the first time that Dan felt scrutinized by Nate, who was either too oblivious or too naive to investigate the truth of his words. It must have been all these years spent together that had rendered him more observing.

"So you're going to be bossing her around?" Nate replied after few seconds. "Like in that movie, with the chick who played cat woman?"

"How do you even know about that movie?" Dan asked a little surprised.

"Vanessa made me watch it on our movie nights. I told her I didn't like it, but it was a lie. I kind of loved it but I didn't want her to see it. She would tease me about it, like, Nate, what would Rambo say if he could see you? I'm not yet ready for that, so please don't tell her."

Dan just laughed. His friend liking _The Devil Wears Prada _was so undefinably bizarre. He had never liked chick flicks, mainly because they lacked car chases.

"So is that how it's going to be?" Nate pressed on, trying to ignore Dan's teasing. "Is that your way of getting back at her? You'll make her get coffee every two minutes and you'll ask her to order something that nobody in New York sells…I get the appeal but—"

"No, it's not like that." Dan answered before he jumped to conclusions. He could not have them thinking that it was about his feelings, because it was not. "I had _Outside. _It was enough. This is just for the magazine's best interest. I'm trying to keep my job here."

Nate was silent as he pulled aside to park the car. When the manoeuvre was done, he looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Just to make sure you knew." He said with a smile. "She and Chuck are over for good. So, no, she won't be flaunting him in your face."

They got out of the car, Nate still smiling while Dan tried his best to pretend that he could not care less about Chuck and Blair's marital status.

**And then, she was there too. **She stood next to Vanessa, clad in a black pant suit with a red silk scarf tied loosely around her delicate neck. He was still not used to her hair. It made her look like a strict school teacher. She stood awkwardly, legs shifting her weight every minute, glancing at the program board but not really seeing it. He knew her distracted face.

When she saw them, there seemed to be a furious blush passing like crimson brush strokes on her cheeks. Her head bowed down as they approached them.

Dan was simply overwhelmed.

_What the hell is she doing here? At this time? With Vanessa?_

It seemed Nate was also just as confused.

"Blair, what are you doing here?" He asked, sounding a little rude despite himself.

Nate really hated confrontations and from the way he looked nervously from her to Dan, it was easily understood that he knew nothing of this.

"Vanessa invited me." She replied, still avoiding his look.

"Ummm, could you excuse us for a second?" Nate said before grabbing Vanessa by the arm and dragging her a few meters aside.

They could still hear them in the background.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Nate almost hissed. "You know what happened between them. You can't do that! He'll hate you forever."

Dan just realized that he was living the most awkward situation of his life, one that surpassed his interview with Blair in his office.

He was standing a few feet away from her, determined in ignoring her just as much as she was ignoring him. After a while however, he felt compelled to drown Nate and Vanessa's voices, so he tried to casually ask her what she was doing here.

Blair seemed surprised by the question. She probably expected him to stay silent the whole time.

"I, um, well, Vanessa invited me." She said, regaining some confidence towards the end of her sentence. She straightened her back, standing high, shoulders squared like the Constance Queen she used to be.

He didn't want to be looking at her for too long so he pretended to be watching the small crowd of people that had gathered next to the door.

"I thought you hated her." He stated, feeling her eyes on him but still intent on looking away.

Why was his heart beating fast? He felt ridiculous. It must have been the setting. That was how he had fallen in love with her, years ago. Through movies and pretentious screenings of equally pretentious movies. It happened to him gradually, just like the way they had learned to sit closer to each other until they were no more seats separating them. With every movie, he learned something new about her, like the way her eyes would light up whenever Hepburn was in the picture or how she whispered answers to the character's questions, even when they had nothing to do with the actual lines.

He suddenly realized he could not do that. He couldn't sit in a cinema with her. He simply couldn't.

"Not anymore." Blair replied next to him as Nate and Vanessa kept on bickering. "I realized I was wrong about her."

Silence.

"I was wrong about a lot of things." He heard her whisper.

He couldn't help but steal a glance and there she was, silently beckoning him to ask what those things were. Like he would!

"I'm sure you were. One of them being that you thought you could simply come here and pretend like we are the Dan and Blair of before. I'm not going to watch this movie with you, or any for the record."

"You think I would have come if Vanessa had told me you'd be here?" She huffed as if the idea was ridiculous but he still knew she was hurt."I'm here because she asked me to, and I won't bail on her because my _boss _is not comfortable with my presence. If you want to leave, fine by me."

"Leave?" Dan repeated a little dumbly. So she was going to stay? It angered him. He suddenly saw her as a snake that had slithered its way in between his friendship with Vanessa and Nate. She was not supposed to be here. She had become estranged to them. And now, she suddenly accompanied them to the cinema, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, like she did not owe anyone an apology of any sort. Like she just expected to be welcomed open-armed. He wanted to go back to the time she had been Blair in Paris, to have her absent from his life and his social circle. It was so much easier before.

"Fine." Dan finally answered, finding his words and footing in the conversation. "Let's set it straight then. You surely remember the two-seats away rule. After all, you're the one who came up with it. Nate and Vanessa will sit in between us. I share nothing with you, no words, no thoughts, no popcorn. If I turn towards your direction, it'll be to speak with Vanessa so do not mistake my words for anything."

"Pfff, fine by me. I was not particularly eager to hear your non-stop ramble anyway." She replied with a smirk of her rosy lips.

"Like you mean it Waldorf. We both know you miss it. Very. Much." Dan retaliated with a little more smugness than he had intended.

Blair seemed to like it for she smiled. Genuinely.

He quickly looked away, unable to bear it.

"Good." Blair stated. "I will warn you beforehand. If you're planning on attending the Gothic Film Festival next month, expect to see me there. Same rules apply of course."

"You?" He almost laughed. "_Gothic Film Festival_?"

The Gothic Film Festival was a relatively recent thing that was started two years ago by horror addicts and recycled goths who felt the gothic movement needed to be acknowledged and revived. Movies that were featured were often period dramas, old Dracula adaptations and horror movies and a few dark romances here and there. Surprisingly, the festival had gathered a lot of interest especially among the nouveau hipsters of the decade. Unsurprisingly though, many mistook gothic for horror and half of the movies shown now had nothing of the gothic in them at all.

"Yes, me." She replied indifferent of his obvious incredulity. "I have all of New York to rediscover now. And I also have brainstorming to do for the next issue. Something as trendy as this festival might be jus interesting enough. From the little research I have made, there are a lot of costume players who visit it and they make their own costumes which I think could make for an interesting article."

Dan was surprised and he could sense her pleasure without looking at her.

"We are not at work." He replied simply. "Leave your ideas till Friday."

He immediately felt bad for his rebuke. He knew she was trying to impress him and although he had acknowledged a long time ago that Blair would always be an impressive woman, she could not be anymore than that to him. Yet, the contained excitement in her tone and the way her sentence had ended with a note of expectation all indicated that she had looked forward to sharing her idea with him. Thinking strictly under a work perspective, he should not have been this rude. It might prevent her from making efforts in the future.

He was about to say something (although he had no idea what) when Nate and Vanessa finally came back and he was reduced to silence while the two of them tried to sound unnaturally cheerful as they announced they were ready to get in.

They took their seats. Nate sat next to Dan with his wife on his other side, followed by Blair.

"Look sorry." Nate whispered while the opening credits rolled in. "She wanted you guys to find a truce or something and I told her she should have left you alone. Don't be too harsh on her. It all came from her heart."

"Hard to believe that she's all friendly with _her_." Dan whispered back.

Nate was elbowed gently by his wife who then gave him a look that said he should be watching, not speaking with Dan.

He was not angry with Vanessa. He was just surprised once again at how much his friend had changed. Years ago, she would have hated Blair. There was just a little parcel of resentment in his spirit. He always thought Vanessa would have his back, that she would side with him. Seeing her with Blair made it all seem like he was the bad guy in the story, and honestly, he often wondered if he really was that.

The movie was beautiful. It was not pretentious or too bent on camerawork (like her previous ones) but simply the kind of storytelling that made everyone comfortable. The two main characters were twin sisters who had decided to visit every hotel of their city in order to find their father, who had been a great traveller. The girls visited decrepit motels, five-stars rooms, roadside lodgings one after the other and even when they learned they would never find him, there had been such a pleasure from witnessing their journey that nobody could complain from the lack of answer.

Dan was so proud of Vanessa that he hugged her right away, in the lobby.

"I would be jealous if I did not know better. That story! It puts mine to shame, it really does." Dan exclaimed, completely forgetting Blair who was standing behind him with Nate.

The latter just stole Vanessa's reply by kissing her a little too passionately in front of everyone.

"Seriously?" Blair said, echoing Dan's exact thought. "I know you're proud of her but we're not in a movie anymore, okay?"

Nate left his wife's lips just to give them a "deal with it" look that made them both laugh before he went back to kissing her.

They then felt like outsiders, like this had been a double date and they, Dan and Blair, were expected to kiss too.

He watched her from the corner of his eye. She was blushing too, biting her lower lip like she always did when she wondered what to say. He wished he could bring back the topic of her idea about the Gothic Film Festival but he knew it would appear strange to go back on his words about not discussing work matters outside the office. So instead, he settled on walking to the food stand.

**He had left them soon after that. **Nate and Vanessa wanted to go eat something but he was not feeling it. He had already had enough of Blair, more than he had ever thought he would after _Outside _was published. He was afraid to find himself sitting with her around the table while they spoke of the movie, while _she _would voice her opinion and he would listen knowing he would find something to disagree with. They had always disagreed about movies, even when the general consensus proved it to be was not willing to battle himself as to whether or not he should debate with her, whether he could resist contradicting her words.

There was something else too; a need to show himself and his intellectualism, that he would never be able to stop if he allowed himself to be in such a position. If there is one thing that was undeniable, it was that they were an intellectual match. That connection would never be severed.

His indifference would begin to falter, cracking under the pressure of his intellectual ego (and that far corner of his mind that still wanted to impress her) and Blair would take it as a good sign; as a sign that they were becoming what they once were.

He could not allow a friendly atmosphere to lure him into a misstep. That is why he left and took a cab back to his loft.

That night, no matter how hard he tried, he could not deny that he was intrigued by Blair's idea. He was already getting along well with the other three writers but he doubted any of them had thought of something as different.

He knew he would have to praise her idea, that he could not afford to treat her any differently than the others (on a side note, he was failing at that) but it was going to be excruciatingly painful to do so without conveying the wrong idea to her. Despite what she thought on the matter, he really didn't want to be friends with her.

Being friends with her is what started it all.

**I'm SO sorry for the time it took to update! I had to study for a driving theory exam so I am sorry about that. Also, to those who are worried about The UES killers, don't be! I am promising a long update which is why I decided to update this one first. I should have the other's chapter by Saturday! **

**I also thank you all for the amazing reviews! I do hope you shall continue to give them! **

**Also, I am writing a little (long!) Natessa oneshot , sort of the story of how they got back together. I feel they deserve to have their own story as I can't tell it in this one since it's Dan and Blair's. It's just for my fellow Natessa fans out there and it starts just like Vanessa told Blair in the last chapter, at the film festival!**

**Okay, so I know this chapter isn't the most satisfying in terms of angst and sexual tension but I felt I needed to devote some time to Dan and Nate's friendship (I love writing them). I also think that the cinema is a key feature of Dair's story and although this time was really awkward, they will be seeing each other a lot in cinemas throughout my fic. And I can promise that the Gothic Film Festival will have a very GOOD scene involving them :-)**

**Anyways, comments, reviews, suggestions are ALL welcome**


	4. It may not be that bad after all

**I always begin by thanking you for all your kind reviews and it'll never change :-). Thank you so much for leaving your comments, whether long or short, I appreciate every single one of them. I want to say that I'm planning for this to be a long fic. It's going to take some time before Dan and Blair find each other again but I assure you it'll be worth it :-). I always favour long storytelling, especially since Dair is as good as done now (trying hard not to expect anything from the writers now). So I want my fics to have a long, satisfying buildup. I hope that doesn't deter some of you from following this story :-)**

**Okay, so here is for Blair's chapter :-)**

It turned out her desk didn't look any more cheerful with a tea set and a single-flowered vase sitting on it. She rearranged them, trying different combinations and positions but it still looked cold. There was nobody in the office room except her so she allowed herself to examine her colleagues' desks. Her nearest coworker had an array of photographs of friends that looked a little too professional which led her to think that someone was hoping to catch the right kind of attention from _W. _

The other two desks had nothing on them. It reassured her.

It was not ten yet. Thirty minutes were left before the official meeting began. Blair had expected the overeager, youngsters that her colleagues were to show up early but apparently, the youth of today could not be bothered. She remembered how much she had done to obtain her internship, how early she had showed up, never once thinking that Dan Humphrey would walk through the door, smirk frozen by the realization that they would be spending actual time together; time that did not involve watching movies.

_W _really was full of surprises, Blair wondered as she took out her notebook. Twice, it brought her Dan when she had least expected to see him of all people. She wanted to believe in some Godly trick of the universe, some higher power telling her that she had not left Chuck only to be brought back to him again and again and again, as if her life revolved around that one inevitable vicious circle. Even when he had loved her, Dan himself had brought her to Chuck. Worse, she herself kept slinking back to him and even when she knew the divorce papers would come soon, there was this lingering feeling that her hand might falter and the next minute, she would be on a plane back to Paris.

Ten years or so with Chuck Bass had passed. Ten years of being known as Ms. Bass, as the woman who shared the bed of the man who had gone through every kind of debauchery possible, from public inebriation to secretary scandals he had paid off to reduce to silence. All these, Blair had not had known who Chuck was and at the end of the day, it was her he would come home to. She could ignore a temporary glitch. Or a few. Chuck knew how to feel remorse, how to _play _remorseful. He had been doing it all his life after all. And sometimes for some months, he would be good company and she would love him at her fullest again, enjoying it as long as it lasted.

It wasn't the bad behaviour that had done it, not even the occasional cheating justified by a "she touched me I swear!" or the late gentlemen soirées he had never allowed her to be privy too. It wasn't the apology Van Cleef and Arpels jewels or the honey-enrobed compliments he'd offer before and after sex as if she couldn't recognize manipulation when she saw it. Blair had practically invented the art herself.

That was predictable Chuck, the one she had known might come back one day or the other. When his father had died, for real this time, Blair had been prepared for the eventual "I don't need a wife" speech. She had offered comfort as best as she could, avoiding to insist when she knew insistence would not be appreciated and had left him to his space, focusing on her work. His father's death had really changed everything, just like it had last time.

The second death seemed to have reminded Chuck that he had a wife, but it did nothing to heal their romantic troubles. Instead, Blair had witnessed the side of Chuck she had never wanted to see again: the one that had told her, a long time ago that she was his and only, his with words shooting like violence itself from his drunkard's mouth.

Oh it had been subtle, very subtle. One day she would come home to see him there, a rare occurrence, waiting on her and before she even had time to question anything, his mouth would be on hers and he would tell her that he missed her in between sighs of longing. In a matter of minutes, they would be at it on the floor, or sometimes on the long chair of the hall. It happened often and she enjoyed to find her man home until it all seemed so strange. Gradually, his words changed, becoming more pressing, more urgent. Sometimes, he wouldn't even wait before she deposited her bags and removed her shoes. His compliments began to revolve around the same topic: his desire for her to abandon work, to be with him more often. At first, Blair disregarded them, too busy was she in enjoying the act than anything else. Soon, however, they became impossible to ignore.

"Blair?" He had said, pushing her away a little ungently. "What do you say to leaving work?"

She observed him, feeling her lust disappear as if someone had unceremoniously snuffed a candle.

"That's an odd idea Chuck." She moved away from his lap, gathering her discarded YSL coat that had really deserved better than the floor." How about you leave your work?" She tried keeping her tone even but she saw his eyes narrow in discontent.

"I can't." He uttered, watching her closely.

"Well, I can't either."

She hoped that this would have settled the matter but the minute she received his look, Blair knew. She knew what all his sweet compliments, touches and moments of seemingly normal conversations were about to boil down to.

"You don't understand." Chuck had whispered with frustration, making her feel like a stubborn child who refused to listen to reason. "Since my father died, you're always away. At work. Is this your way of acting out? I didn't know he was your father too,Blair. I didn't know you were mourning him. I needed you for God's sake." He stopped to take a breath, readjusting his tie expertly while she waited, a little transfixed by his words. "You're not the same anymore, too busy, always out and about at whatever gala your stupid company takes you to."

"Stupid company?" She repeated.

Chuck seemed to regret his words.

"That's not what I meant." He began unconvincingly.

"You know what I've had to endure because of your stupid Bass industries?" Blair said, unable to scream because it seemed she had gotten too used to him. "The late night parties of yours, secretaries calling me to cancel on our plans; secretaries you were most likely sleeping with by the way! Grumpiness every time you got as much as an ounce of paperwork to fill! I never even knew your colleagues and I'm sure they don't know me. Can you blame me for putting my work before you?" She stopped to look at him, waiting for an interruption but Chuck was silent. "Don't I deserve it?"

"My father died." He stated calmly.

"I know and I _was _there for you."

"You _were_. Not anymore."

"So you're going to try to make me feel guilty, is that it?" Blair whispered as she stepped away. "By blaming it on my job?"

His jaw was set hard and his hair was dishevelled and he looked dangerous in that moment. She feared him again, like she had feared him on that fateful night. Yet, suddenly, he smiled.

"I'm sorry." He said before standing up and walking to his office, locking the door behind and leaving her entirely unconvinced.

She never expected it would get worse from there.

**The door to the conference room suddenly opened, pulling Blair out of her thoughts.**For a second, she feared to see Dan step inside the room but her concerns were put to rest when she saw his auburn-haired assistant instead. She seemed surprised to find Blair there.

"Good morning!" She said as she closed the door.

Blair wished her the same. The girl wore leggings, one of the fashion fad that Blair never really succeeded in decimating. At least, Vivian did not wear them as pants. They were plain black with no frilly leather additions or unbecoming metal studs so Blair found them bearable. On top, she wore a large and long t-shirt that seemed like a dress. It was grey and arbored a miscellaneous print of some rock band Blair did not know. On top of the shirt was a long blazer, black and quite structured. The overall effect was actually very interesting, not something that Blair would ever wear, but still very fitting with the idea of _W_.

"You're Ms. Waldorf right?" Vivian asked her, not noticing Blair's look.

She was setting copies of _W'_s past issues on the table.

"Yes." Blair replied. "And you're Vivian, if I remember correctly." The truth was, she did remember her correctly. She remembered how Dan would look at her, how the two of them smiled like they shared private jokes nobody else was privy to. There was no way Blair would not remember her name. "You can call me Blair." She was going to add: just like you call Mr. Humphrey Dan.

"Oh good! It's still a bit early to be informal with each other but I'm glad of it. Dan never really likes statuses and pompous titles, especially since we're all going to be thrown together so much. You know, watching movies and plays and covering events. We're not in the 18th century anymore."

She laughed along with Vivian before silence returned. It was 10:10 and the arrival of the others was imminent. She saw Vivian take out a pen from her pocket and set it on the table where Dan's spot was. Catching her look, she proceeded to explain.

"Dan always loses his pens and I have it on good authority, well, his authority, that he really likes this one. So I keep it for him, although he doesn't know." She winked playfully. "He is probably searching for it right now. I like to give him a a moment of panic just before he finds it."

Blair stood up to see the famous pen, thinking it must have been a Mont Blanc or a Cross but her eyes fell on a plain black pen with _Ridge Hotels and Co. _written in golden on its case.

"Interesting." Blair commented before breaking into a laugh with the other girl.

"I know! One would expect something more expensive. But I can vow for the qualities of this pen!" Vivian then adopted a business-like tone. "Its tip glides smoothly over the paper without any disruption and the ink is of a remarkable vividness. When we first got them at the Ridge in northern Toronto, we also underestimated them. Then Dan used it once because he had lost his other pen, unsurprisingly, and he just adopted it. You know, sometimes, you could buy a crazy expensive pen but in the end, you don't feel comfortable with it you know? Before we left the hotel, he actually asked them if he could buy some of their pens. I think they have a sentimental value too. We had a good time in Toronto."

Blair swallowed hard, trying to join in the laughter but failing miserably. The thought of the two of them in Toronto together was not pleasant. Not pleasant at all. It felt like someone had punched her through the stomach and disembowelled her at the same time and all of these feelings seemed ridiculous because she really shouldn't feel concerned about what Dan's life had consisted in during these past ten years. Were they together? Did they go there for a romantic getaway? Blair doubted Dan would find Toronto fitting but then again, Vivian was not Blair and he was one of the few men who were very conscious of their girlfriend's desires.

"How was Toronto?" Blair asked, in an attempt to coax some information out of Vivian.

_Did they go alone? Are they going out? Does he like her? Well, she definitely likes him, that is for sure. You can see it in her eyes. Oh God, am I that obvious too? Don't be stupid, that cheek caress gave it up already. He knows you like him. Except that I don't. I can't. It's over. I just want to be friends with him, that's all. _

Her mind was doing that thing that her twenty-year old self used to do, that incessant rambling she must have acquired from Dan himself, except that it would never actually come out of her mouth but stay imprisoned in her head, playing like a broken record.

"It was amazing!" Vivian replied. "The Film Festival was perfect.I even got Ryan Gosling to sign my copy of _Drive _and I have a picture with Emma Watson. I'm a big Harry Potter fan, I can't deny it." Blair smiled even though she had never read the Harry Potter books in her life. She tried to ignore the fact that he had taken her to a film festival but her efforts were in vain. She felt it like a personal blow even if he had every right to do whatever he pleases."The whole crew got amazing rooms at the Ridge on top of that and we got to cover most of the premieres. It was perfect."

"Oh" Blair said as she felt a surge of relief warming its way through her whole body, "I thought you only went with Dan, I mean, Mr. Humphrey."

At the slip, Vivian looked at her oddly, like she caught on to something she had always been suspecting. Blair tried to smile it off but there was too much intelligence in her eyes and not enough subtlety in Blair's.

"You're the girl from his books." was Vivian's statement.

It took Blair by surprise. Before she could think of anything appropriate to say, anything that would deny her words, Blair found herself blurting out two highly incriminating questions.

"How did you know? Did he tell you?"

This should have been the moment where Blair would list Vivian as one of the people she hates. She expected the judgemental glare, perhaps a little upturn of the nose and a drastic change of tone going from friendly to graveyard cold. Blair prepared herself, taking a deep breath and plastering a resolute look on her face but Vivian was not going to give her what she expected.

"He didn't tell me." Vivian said gently. "In fact, I was a little angry you know? You'd think that years of knowing each other would earn me his trust. But then I realized who you were and I understood why he didn't want to say anything. He only said you were a friend of his ex but I figured that Claire was also a friend of his ex, had brown hair too and dressed really well. No, seriously, you do!"

Was she really being complimented?

"Umm…thanks?" Blair replied cautiously.

"I think I also knew from that weird moment I stumbled upon the two of you in his office. Dan doesn't know that I have read both of _Inside _and _Outside _more than once. He really underestimates his work, like every writer, but the books were both so great. I remember at the time, thinking that I knew a Claire or Sabrina in my life. Well of course, now I know _the _Claire Carlyle." She laughed awkwardly. "But what I'm really trying to say is that, his books stayed with me. I think that's why I could figure you out."

"Well?" Blair questioned, shifting one leg to cross it over the other.

Vivian sat down in front of her. They were separated by the wooden table. Blair noticed Vivian had a _Ridge _pen too, held in between two pale fingers with short, bitten away, nails that were highly unattractive. Her own manicured hands rested on her lap, as if gathering enough power to get through the awkwardness by sticking close to her body.

"I was surprised he hired you at first." Vivian commented, sounding slightly displeased for the first time. Blair had been waiting for it but the slight frown of her eyebrows quickly disappeared. "Now, I am not. He doesn't hold grudges, or if he does, he knows how to move past them."

"He told me just as much. He hired me for my skills." She couldn't help sounding a little superior.

"Well yes, you were head of Waldorf Designs! This counts as mad skills. I think he would have been fired if he hadn't hired you."

"But I'm sure this is a problem for you." Blair pointed out.

"Me?" Vivian seemed confused.

"You like him." Blair figured out that since this appeared to be Honesty Hour, she might as well contribute to the discussion. "It's rather obvious."

She blushed so deeply, her cheeks seemed to disappear among the redness of her hair. Blair would have found it adorable, if the man himself had not been Dan. In the current situation, all she could feel was a deep mortification in thinking that someone else liked him. What is more, Vivian was an interesting sort of girl, literary and rather funny and unburdened by all of Blair's troubles. She was the easy option. She was Dan's pure and simple love.

"I do." She admitted. "But I don't see where the problem is. My feelings have nothing to do with you."

"Are you not bothered that his ex will be working around him?"

"That's nonsense from stupid soap operas." Vivian interjected rather intensely. "If you still like him or if he still likes you, I don't think there is a thing that I can do, is there?"

"I don't like him." Blair exclaimed. " I just wish to be his friend."

"Well that makes it less of a problem then!" Vivian said with a clap of the hand that reminded her of an overeager ad lady. "Look, I am only concerned with my feelings. Of course, I care about Dan's in the sense that he is my friend. But whether he reciprocates mine or not is strictly his problem. I've never been much of a jealous, possessive person."

Silence.

Blair felt uneasy. She had nothing to answer to Vivian's more than mature response and she willed someone to come, anyone. The good nature of this woman was almost too hard to believe. Vivian reminded her of Eva, minus the French accent. Eva had been the kind of person who gets along with anybody, nice or evil and who had no predisposition of assuming the worst about a person. Like Eva, Vivian was one of those few who were hard to anger and whose feelings did not dictate their actions. If Blair could say something, it was that Vivian, like Eva, unsettled her but years have passed and she now knew better than to accept the feeling. Vivian was a good person and there was no amount of jealousy that could change the matter.

She was exempted from answering by the arrival of one of her colleagues. It was the dark-skinned girl that Blair had seen at their first meeting. She was a gorgeous specimen of women, tall and lithe with a mass of black curls on her head that made Blair wish her own hair could take that shape. Of course, she didn't remember her name. All Blair had absorbed from their last meeting was Dan and Vivian. Everyone else had seemed irrelevant.

"Flora!" Vivian greeted and Blair concluded that those two were much more familiar with each other than she was with Blair. "How are you doing?"

The two of them began to talk and Blair felt there was no way for her to intrude their conversation. There were a little less than ten minutes left before the meeting began and gradually, the two other young men who completed the group finally came in. Only Dan was missing.

The guy sitting next to her suddenly started introducing himself, as if she had given any indication of being open to conversation.

"Hi, I'm Lee." He said, startling her out of her thoughts. He looked at least five years younger and was one of those nouveau hipsters with the perfectly-squared Ray-Bans that made them look like robots. "You're Blair Waldorf right? That's kind of crazy. I never thought I'd be working with you one day."

Suddenly, this Lee guy seemed like someone she might actually like.

"Yes, that's me. I decided to try magazine writing. It was a fancy of mine a long time ago so I figured, why not?"

He smiled and it made him look even younger if that was possible. She figured it wouldn't be bad to know someone who was not Vivian.

"How did you end up at _W_?" She asked, surprising herself in wanting to keep the conversation going.

"I majored in creative writing but I've done a minor in journalism." He shifted on his chair so that he could face her well. "I really just want to write, you know, books but it's becoming increasingly hard to make a living out of it. I should have seen it coming, four years ago." He made a move to slap his forehead comically, getting a smile out of her. "Now, I guess I'm going with the flow."

"So, you're abandoning your dreams? Aren't you a little too young for that?" Hearing herself say those things made her feel so old all of a sudden.

"I'm being realistic. People don't read anymore, unless it's magazine and even then, everything is going on online. Do you know that more people read _W'_s blog than the number of subscribers to the actual magazine?"

"I didn't. But I'm sure that it doesn't correlate to the number of subscribers. I mean, it has become pretty cheap now and people like to hold the actual magazine in their hands, flip through the pages and see the photo shoots. It feels more authentic of an experience."

"Oh yes, no disagreeing with that!" Lee replied, getting more engaged in the conversation by the minute."But you said it, it's pictures and photographs that attract them, and may be the occasional article or celebrity interview."

"Then what are we doing here, if our writing is so irrelevant?" Blair questioned, raising her eyebrow to which Lee reciprocated with the same.

"We're supposed to revive the Arts and Culture section. That's what Mr. Humphrey is all about. We're an experimental group and we've got to make it work. I've recently found out he wrote two books by the way, which immediately makes him some kind of hero. I'm going to get a hold of the first. Apparently, it made some kind of ravage when it came out, ten years ago!"

_Oh God, not him too._

But she had no time to answer as Dan finally made his appearance.

**She didn't want to compare Dan with Chuck, especially since she had now finally realized that there was no ground for comparison. **Chuck was another sort of man, a man who had loved her—and that may be the only thing the two of them could ever share—but he was nothing else that Dan was, especially in his thirties. She had always believed the years would do Chuck some good, that another three hundred and sixty five days would teach him to gather himself and be the man she had always believed in. Years came and passed and Chuck seemed to acquire little. He had grown to love the theatre, but only if the right people would be in the audience. He was not literary and she could excuse that, but he was also so little of anything else. She wondered whether there really was a man with ambition in him. His passions for hotels was no more since they were all doing prosperously and that simply bored him. He had not endeavoured to do anything with the millions he owned, except throwing parties and traveling. All of it had seemed perfectly acceptable to her in that time but she now reflected on his general state of carelessness. Seeing Dan at _W_, directing a team, speaking with intent, with plans and ideas, the way his hands would illustrate the simplest concept, his attentive listening of their individual contributions…He was driven. He had something to think of and she could not help but admire him.

He had not particularly looked at her but she did receive a slight nod towards her direction and she liked to believe that Lee had nothing to do with it.

After a small session of chatting, of which she was not a part, Dan immediately began to single them out in order for them to expose their ideas. He started with Flora, who was sitting next to Vivian.

Blair vaguely heard her discuss her idea to address Tim Burton, who had now gone into a recluse state, he who had been producing a movie a year in his younger days. She heard Flora explain how his reinventions and use of special aesthetics influenced the world of photography and fashion.

Flora received some good acknowledgment from Dan before they moved on to the other man who was called Aidan. This time, Blair did not listen. Her mind was solely focused on her own idea.

Hers was a daring one, may be even too different from what _W _was all about. Blair's knowledge of the world of Gothic cinema was not thorough in the least, not even after a few hours of Google work. Nonetheless, she had stumbled upon a few blogs that had given her inspiration for an just wasn't sure she'd be able to present it with enough confidence.

Lee's turn was soon over and the inevitable moment of eye-contact was near. Dan spoke a few more sentences relating to whatever Lee had talked about before there was no more to be said. Her heart seemed to be no more and her breath caught slightly in her trachea.

Then he looked at her, and she understood what he meant by being professional. His look did not differ from the ones he had offered to the others. There was genuine interest in his eyes, mingling with the faintest trace of reluctance but that would not be noticed by the others. Only she could feel it.

"So, Blair. Now is your turn." He said, leaning back on his seat and watching her.

"Sure." Her voice came out a little squeaky and she willed her tone to be composed. "Well, I have been thinking of the Gothic Film Festival that'll be taking place in New York in about a month."

"Bear in mind our next issue should come out at the end of this month." He said. "Your article has to be ready in two weeks time and that is way before the beginning of the festival."

_Would he just let me finish?_ Blair almost groaned inwardly.

"Yes. I have taken that into consideration." She replied automatically."The festival has a reputation for its abundance of costume players, or 'cosplayers' as is the term I discovered through my research. I personally never heard of people who like to dress and pretend, unless it is for Halloween or a girl putting on her mother's clothes and playing dress up. Then, I started thinking that there must be a reason why these people do it. They find the costumes aesthetically appealing. Some have a preference for a certain character, a certain style. People take it so seriously, they are willing to invest a lot of money in order to get the good fabrics and accessories. There is a whole world out there that extends beyond the characters, movies or shows they like. It's about looking the part, about feeling good in the costume, the attitude. Most importantly, it's about them! I think that's what fashion is all about but it's also a form of culture." She paused, realizing that this was the longest she had spoken in front of these people. They were all looking at her but her eyes were only on Dan. She thought she could see interest in his brown eyes. He nodded slightly, asking her to go on.

"So, I know the festival isn't until next month but I'm not concerned with the movie aspect. I think it would be great to have a feature on the costume players themselves, see how they prepare themselves and may be take photographs of their early work. Then, in the next issue, we could actually have those same cosplayers for a photo shoot, where they could pose in their respective way, we'd create continuity so the readers might like to see what's next."

"That is really, like really, cool." She heard Lee say to her right.

Dan smiled at his remark, but he was still looking at her and then, she didn't know if it might have been for her all along.

"I don't know if it's too different." Blair almost whispered, trying to ignore the way her stomach felt like it was invaded with butterflies.

"No, it's rather perfect really." Was Dan's comment. "It's also ambitious. You'd need at least three of those 'cosplayers' and a maximum of five, who would be willing to stick around for the next issue."

"I have already contacted two bloggers who have replied in the affirmative."

"So you were confident I'd approve your idea?" He said and she was certain that he was teasing her. "Interesting."

"Well, I figured, better be ready than sorry."

"Quite a good motto." was his comment. "But I think we could secure you three to four pages double-sided, more for the next issue. So your challenge is to basically get everything to fit the constraints. I'll also appoint you to one of the photographers so you can start as soon as you can."

Did it seem really that easy? He had not put her down, had not decided to criticize anything. She knew Chuck would never have treated her that way.

Disappointment soon visited her when she realized that this was probably due to the others' presence. She remembered how he had cut her off at Vanessa's screening.

The conference ended soon and they were sent back to their office space but before Blair could leave the room, she was called out by Dan.

"You're coming with me." That was all he said.

Blair did not miss Vivian's look as the both of them left the room.

She followed him through _W_'s corridors. They passed by Epperley's old office but he acted as if he had not seen the place. That was where she had asked for his help. Also where she had put some Chanel perfume inside her coffee to sabotage him.

"Where are we going?" Blair asked when he stopped in front of windowless door in one of the corners of the place that really seemed like they didn't belong to _W _at all. For a second, she thought he would take her in a closet where they'll be having passionate angry sex, like they could be one of those couples in those bad love-hate relationships on television. She wouldn't mind it at all, Blair realized.

But Dan only laughed a little, looking away from her. His hair was as dishevelled as ever but it moved with him and she loved it.

"What?" Blair heard herself say, thinking she was the butt of some unknown joke and hoping that it had nothing to do with Vivian.

"It's just…" Dan struggled to find his words."_you_ and cosplayers! Who would have thought? The head of Waldorf Designs mingling with some common members of the nerd subculture. It's…it's interesting."

"You told us to think outside of the box so don't chastise me for it!"

He held up his hands in surrender.

"I'm not chastising." He defended and she could tell he was trying hard not to sound too amused. "I'm just saying it's bizarre." Then he added in a mumble," Well this whole _W _thing is bizarre."

_So, I'm not the only one who has been thinking about this._

Blair wanted to say something, to point out how strange it was that they were brought back here of all the places. She wanted to say that she always thought she'd never see him again and that a part of her had actually fretted at the thought, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. But in the end, she said nothing and soon, the door opened, revealing an attractive young man (_seriously! Why are they all young?_) who was as tall as Dan but dressed in a plaid shirt. She found it ironic to see the two of them standing side by side. While Dan wore a fitted cardigan, an obvious and successful attempt at dressing the part, this young man seemed entirely unbothered by the dress code of the fashion magazine. It was like seeing a younger Dan, except that he looked nothing like Dan.

"So, this is the photographer who shall be working with you. I'm sure you'll get along." Dan said rather dismissively. "If you don't, suck it up and find a middle ground." He then addressed the young man. "Christan,, I know you are not engaged in any other project but your personal ones, so there is no way out of this, alright?"

The young man just sighed, agreeing with a nod of the head. He looked at Blair with total disinterest, like he might be looking at some office plant. She decided she didn't like him. May be that was Dan's way of punishing her; setting her up to work with a marginalized youth who obviously could not care less about any topic at hand.

"Get to know each other then. That's your task for today."

And without a single look towards her, he was gone. She watched him walk away, frustrated to no end.

"So, what's your name again?" The guy asked, obviously unaware that he has not been told her name before.

Blair sighed exasperatedly. This was going to be a long ride.

**Alright, I am SO SO SO SORRY for the time it took to update. I have started University and I'm still trying to find my footing as to my time schedule. I actually stayed up late to finish this chapter. I had to re-do it because I wasn't satisfied with it.**

**Anyways, I find myself lucky to have my readers inquire about this story. It lets me know that you care and I love you for that. **

**I have introduced a love interest for Blair (no, it's not Lee) since a lot of you wanted to see that. I also have thought about it before but like I said, I don't like plot devices. I'm actually going to take care of my characters, all of them. Before Dan and Blair get together, there is going to be a bit of story and angst. It's perfectly natural :-)**

**Any comment, reviews, suggestions are all welcome as usual!**

**Sorry again :-(**

**Also, to those of you who read my other Dair fic Haughtiness and Judgement,I was thinking of switching it to M but that really is if you guys think it fits the context. No worries, I won't have the characters have pre-marital sex or anything like that. I'm all for staying true to Pride and Prejudice. But you know, day dreams and fantasies of ladies can be interesting right? And who knows what will happen once they are married?:-)**


	5. By the Old Friendships and the New

**Here is the next update. As usual I thank you all for your reviews. I especially thank lovelycupcake for her thorough comments and PMs. They have been very helpful in guiding me and making me reconsider some aspects of my story. I would like to address a comment made by Ghost. First, I thank you a lot for your comment. I like that you care enough about my story to share your opinion and I am happy to read it. As I have said before, I started this fic not wanting Chuck and Serena to be a part of it, except as people who used to matter in the past. I want Dan and Blair to be in that moment in their life, like in season 4, where Serena and Chuck weren't their focal points in life. During their internship, they were just Dan and Blair, not Dan&Serena and Blair&Chuck. I guess that's what I want to re-create. They might make an appearance later, but I will stress that Dan and Blair are over them! As for the love interest for Blair, my intention is not to use him as a plot device. Like I said, I am not planning for a short fic. This will be long but it's going to be about Dan and Blair as real adults, changing and finally finding each other for good this time. They need to grow separately a little, see other people (especially since Blair is over Chuck now)…I'm not sure if that reassures you. I do hope so because I value you as a reader!**

**Anyways, let's get to business.**

"I can't work with him." Blair said, storming into his office, Christan following behind looking not much concerned by the situation at hand.

It was almost four in the afternoon on Monday and Vivian was waiting for him in the lobby of the building. He had been about to put his coat on but he was interrupted midway by the two of them. He could not contain an exasperated sigh.

"I thought I was clear when I said that there would be no room for caprice here." He replied, going to his desk and taking a seat. "What's the problem?"

Blair seemed to struggle for word. He watched her look at Christan as if expecting him to feel shameful and avert his eyes but even Dan knew him better than that. The young man took to the chair, leaving Blair standing and he was smiling as if the whole thing was amusing, which Dan had to admit it was.

"He's insufferable!" Blair finally exclaimed. "No sense of organization whatsoever! He goes out to smoke every five minutes and he doesn't listen to what I want. I bet he even takes lousy photographs from what I'm seeing so far."

"You don't know that." Dan intervened.

"Yeah, I tried telling her. I need to edit them out before and-" Christan started to explain, for once sounding a little bit like he was actually interested in the conversation.

He still sounded bored out of his wits. Dan knew Christan from _The New Yorker_. The later had been an intern there and he had happened to be assigned to him to cover one of the concerts he'd had to critique. Like Blair, Dan had been more than sceptical of Christan's unenthusiastic attitude and general disregard of everything around him but he knew better than to judge. What Christan lacked in words and organization, he more than compensated in the final product of his work. That was why he had assigned him to Blair.

And may be, may be there was a tiny part of him that wanted to be amused by her reaction. May be.

"Look, you still have a week. See what Christan gives you and if you really dislike his photographs, then I'll relegate him to someone else. You should be concerned with the article itself."

Blair put on her signature moue, the one that told you she still had plenty to say on the subject. He hoped he had sounded strict enough. He couldn't have her visiting his office every time something was not working for her. He noticed Christan didn't seem to like her much either but he had never been a complainer.

"Could I speak to you privately?" He heard Blair say and he dreaded that tone.

"Is this the part where she tries to convince you I'm worthless?" Christan exhales out lazily, as if he had been smoking the last cigarette of his pack. "Should I be worried about my job here?"

It was hard to think that he could be worried at all, with that tone of voice.

"If you use the dark room for your own psychedelic party pictures, _that _might do the job yes." Dan replied in a warning although he knew nobody else had caught him in the act and he was too nice to tell anybody.

The door was closed and he was left alone with her.

Blair looked her usual good and her hair had grown longer since last time he had seen her but the bob was still there. He tried to comprehend why she had abandoned her long chocolate locks for this drastic, straightened up hairdo but then he understood that the world of fashion seemed to require the bob. He liked it less but it seemed to make things easier. Being physically attracted to her was something he couldn't help but if the feeling could be atoned, he would not be picky.

She waited until Christan's steps could not be heard anymore. Then, her rose-tinted mouth opened.

"Is this about getting back at me?" Her controlled tone was bordering on venomous. "Because that really did the trick. He's a real pain AND he ignores me when I point it out."

This was too much like a deja vu; Blair complaining to him about the various aspects of her life she could not control.

"Not everything is about getting back at you," He said, sounding like Christan for once. He really didn't want to have this conversation again. "In fact, I think my behaviour has been quite exemplary."

He took up one of the random drafts lying pell-mell on his desk, finding out it was Lee's text on that Moroccan night restaurant. His new coffee mug—a greyish brown rustic thing, huge and definitely unfitting with the whole thematic of _W_— was sitting on the corner with affront and he saw the curious glance she spared to it. He felt bold so he took it up, sipping at the now cold coffee and trying not too hard to hide a smile. The coffee was disgusting for one but he forced it down his throat nonetheless because he would not lose face.

"New mug, I take it?" Blair noticed inevitably.

"What is it to you?"

Blair seemed unsure of what to say and he felt he was seeing her for the first time in years all over again. The situation was too similar to their encounter in this same office a few weeks ago.

"Nothing." She replied simply, still staring at the mug like she had unfinished business with it.

He let one of his fingers roam around it. To be fair, he felt nothing for that mug. He had just needed a new one so he had picked one at random from his father's old mugs back at the loft. Dan had never thrown away Rufus' things. They made the loft still feel like home.

"You know, _W _does give out mugs too, if you really couldn't find anything better. At least, theirs seem clean."

"I'm not a big fan of the branded stuff."

"What happened to the other one?" He heard her ask, not really believing she would actually bring it up.

He did not feel like being mean but there was a definite pleasure to be obtained from this whole situation.

"It fell accidentally. Such a tragedy."

"Yes, an accident, I'm sure." Blair responded acidly.

What Blair did not know is that her mug was far from broken. He had taken it back to the loft, where he had sworn she would never step in again. It sat in one of the many cupboards, safely tucked in the back where he would not see it. He should have thrown it away but he simply could not. There was the proof of his last shred of romanticism. He remembered the first time he had held the mug, Blair half-asleep on his shoulder, her expensive heels laying discarded on the ground. He had kept drinking the tea, using his free arm to conduct the movement, afraid to disturb her. He remembered those times whenever he saw the mug. There were only good memories attached to it; their midnight chatter and the way she'd take to drink his tea when hers was finished. At that time, they really were just Dan and Blair.

"So," He decided to change the subject and revert back to the Christan matter. "is your inability to work with Christan a product of your general tendency to misjudge people? He may not look like the fancy photographers from your mother's company but he does the job just as well as any of the others."

"I've learned to tolerate people I don't like very well, in case you were wondering." She walked over to the seat Christan had just left and he saw her hesitate before she sat down."But he is jeopardizing my work. I ask for a certain angle, he shrugs and goes for the other. Don't I know better? I'm the one who visualized this whole thing!"

"Did you study photography?" Dan asked, not sure how to approach what appeared to be a conversation.

"I did not, but I've been around the world of fashion long enough—"

"You didn't. So that settles it."

"You're going to tell me that this…this street dweller actually studied photography. Please! Anyone can do what he does: lazying around and clicking haphazardly on a camera whenever he feels it's right."

"I'm sure he would have a lot of nice things to say about you too."

He watched her open her mouth, then close it. A frown took over her features and she really did look like that Wintour woman for a few seconds. Her finger was still devoid of a ring and he found himself much more interested in the matter than he should be. Dan figured out he could just google it. _Head of Waldorf Designs divorces Billionaire Bass_. That would make the headlines of the gossip magazines. Too bad he doesn't read them.

"I don't care what he thinks. I'm justified in my actions." Blair stated, crossing one of her legs. The movement seemed defensive to him, like a cat crouching against a corner.

"How so?" He looked her straight in the eyes, proud that he was able to do that. She didn't hold his gaze for long and he felt a little disappointed in having her give up so early.

"I don't want to disappoint you."

It came out as a low sentence, spoken to the ground. Her hair fell forward, hiding her face. Something in the picture unsettled him.

"You won't." The words were out before he could control himself and then he chided himself like he hadn't done in a long time.

_Idiot, now is not the time for this. Don't give her hope where hope is not deserved_. _What happened to being stoic!_

She looked up, doe-eyes as expressive as they had ever been and he could swear he saw love among the depth of their brown irises. It hurt him, even disgusted him. He wished he hadn't seen it, or imagined it. Years ago, he would have been ecstatic, drunk on feelings but now, it just saddened him. He wished she had loved him when he had loved her. Right now, he was bitter, a cynic who knew no better than to write critiques crippled with sarcasm and who hadn't produced any inspired prose in years. He will never be ready to love Blair again.

"I mean, that idea of yours is so very much outside of your comfort zone, I think disappointment is out of the question."

Blair chuckled at his words.

"Well, I didn't get out of the fashion world to write about fashion again. It's not logical." Blair answered rather cheerfully.

"You seem happy at least." He remarked.

She did seem happy. Ever since he had seen her first, awkwardness aside of course, he noticed she appeared unburdened. However, there was this melancholy to her that he could not figure out just from the way she averted his eyes or how she sat alone during their meetings, pretending to peer over her notebook and giving the cold shoulder to pretty much everyone.

"I am. Well, Christan aside of course."

"Does this mean you'll soon give up on fancy outfits? They must make many people here feel very self-conscious." Dan quipped, turning on his chair slowly.

"Why? Is this the word going around? That I make people feel self-conscious? I can't say I'm not flattered." Blair replied with a cocky smile. "I've always had that effect of course."

"Oh, I don't know. The only woman I really speak to here is Vivian, and she really doesn't care about that. But I'm deducing this from my experience in Constance, a long time ago."

"I was evil back then." Blair reflected, making no movement to stand up. He began to fear she would never leave and he vaguely remembered that Vivian was waiting for him. He was reluctant to ask her to go.

There are conversations that seem to mean nothing. Theirs was one of those. It was no small talk and yet, it had nothing of a friendly encounter either. The years had passed and taken Dan and Blair away from each other. There was no residual charm left to their conversations, nothing of their past light banter or substance behind their phrases. He thought of two old acquaintances trying to revive something that was hopeless and he wondered why he subjected himself to it instead of standing up and heading out. Clearly, he was not foolish enough to believe that they really _could _have that easy flow of words again?

And yet, he kept on talking, fuelling the conversation, throwing wood frantically at a dying fire in hopes of reviving it.

"You know you were quite tame compared to Georgina." He said with a low chuckle remembering the brunette he had once come to like.

"God, yes, I was never like her! Then again, it kind of says a lot that you compare me with her." Blair answered with a contrite smile.

_She smells too good,_ he noticed for the thousandth time since she entered the room. He had always liked Blair's choice of perfume. Unlike Serena, who had gone for the fruity and zesty smells, Blair preferred flowery scents. He remembered clearly her current perfume and it came as a shock to him. He had never cared enough to look up names or brands but this one…This one, he would not forget. _Femme _by Jean-Paul Gaultier, the bottle shaped like a woman's body. She had shown it to him one night after they had made love and he had lost himself in the rose smell of her neck. He had asked her, wanting to know just for once about what Blair wore and how she managed to entice him every time.

She was wearing it now.

"What happened to her?" She asked him and he knew he was not the only one who was trying to keep the conversation going.

The subject of Georgina Sparks was too delicate. She had been the main person to fuel his anger when anger had been most needed to get the words out of him. He had allowed himself to listen to her because for once, he had been on her side. For once, Georgina Sparks made total sense. She was crazy and sociopathic but he had come to realize that Lily wasn't so different. Nor was Chuck, or Blair or Serena. Only Nate had escaped that Upper East Side plague for some reason because the whole lot of them were rotten to the core.

"Milo is apparently very studious." He managed to say. "And she's still married to that guy, so I'm guessing she's better than all of us."

"No way did he take that studiousness from his mother. I'm sure that is all you."

"He's not mine. And I only had him for a few months" He retorted, dodging her indirect compliment because he really couldn't feel flattered anymore.

"Those few months had been enough then." Blair said lightly. "You were a book worm, I'm sure Milo somehow managed to absorb that."

"Sure." was all he could say.

"And Nate is married too so at least someone is doing good."

He narrowed his eyes at her and she widened hers, visibly confused as to what she had said wrong.

"What?" Blair questioned.

"Did you just say that without any hint of sarcasm or are you genuinely happy that he has married Vanessa?" He said, watching her. "Because, I remember clearly that you do not like her, not one bit."

"Were you blind and deaf during that screening of hers? She _invited _me." Her tone was quickly turning into the one she had adopted when Christan was around.

"Oh, I know Vanessa is nice enough to have done that—"

"And we are friends now." Blair cut him all soldier-like. "Which is more than I can say for you and I!"

There could not have been a better conversation stopper than that statement.

What could he say? Deny it? That was out of the question for they were not friends. It would be pretending that this whole concept of "once friends, always friends" actually existed and that had been proven wrong several times. He did not speak to Serena and he doubted Blair did either, considering she was now hanging out with Vanessa. He had managed to keep his friendship with the latter but it was Nate who had helped, Nate who had forced them to work things out. May be Dan was glad he had done that. He had grown sick of the Upper East Side and Vanessa reminded him of the days where Paul Smith ties and champagne flutes didn't matter.

"I'm your superior. You work for me." He forced himself to say the words that have become almost like a mantra to him. "We can't be friends."

_That was a good excuse_, he thought with relief. He would not have his feelings come into the equation.

Dan watched her mouth quiver a little as if it had had something to say for an infinitesimal moment. Then, nothing.

Blair stood up, sending a delicate waft of perfume towards him. He inhaled despite himself, hiding it under the pretence of a sigh. Staring down at him under dark eyelashes and through even darker eyes, she addressed him:

"I don't see that stopping you with Vivian."

The statement would have sounded cold even to the coldest individual on Earth, but to Dan, it did not. He heard the fire of hurt Blair's controlled voice. He saw the way her eyes drooped at the end of her words. He felt her chest heave as if it had been his own and he damned himself for knowing her still.

Blair walked away, leaving him alone at last.

_Vivian is not you Blair! She didn't leave me for Chuck Bass without saying a single word. She didn't break my heart. She didn't make me believe like I had finally found someone like me, someone who cared, someone who had all that Serena didn't._

All these sentences played in his mind, but of course Blair would not hear them. He had always been a lonely converser anyways. So instead, he allowed himself these justifications, imagining how he would tell them to her if he ever found enough will to do it.

**He left his office, aware that Vivian was still waiting for him**. As soon as he locked his door behind, he was accosted by Christan.

"Is my job still safe?" Was the first thing he asked Dan.

Dan smiled a little, noticing how he actually sounded a little worried.

"If you mean, 'was I coerced into firing you?', then rest assured. You're not fired."

Christan sighed, passing a hair through his long blond hair, unsettling it more than it already was. They had that in common, the unruly hair.

"I'm not going to talk behind anyone's back here but she can be a bit of a maniac, so I just thought she'd convince you, you know?" Christan said, walking alongside him towards the elevators. "And don't tell her I said anything okay?"

"Did you not notice how exasperated I was about this whole thing?" Dan replied, pressing for the doors to close. "I don't want to have to re-live this again so I'm not going to stir up trouble by telling her anything. Just mind your behaviour, alright?"

Christan had not changed much from his _New Yorker _days. He was the type of person who required a _lot _to get angry, sad, worried or disheartened. His lazy, nonchalant attitude was bordering on stereotypical when Dan thought about it. He was exactly what the adults thought of when they pictured youth.

The fact that Blair managed to make him worried seemed to be telling a lot.

"Yo, I barely do anything. Even when she starts lecturing me, I stay silent. I'm exemplary, man." Christan defended himself.

Only Christan thought it acceptable to address him as _man. _For some reason, Dan didn't mind.

"I believe you." Dan replied, knowing very well that it would start raining diamonds before Christan lost his temper. "Where are you off to now? Don't you have to edit the photographs right now? I know your day is not over yet. You get paid to stay at work until six."

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry. I just need to smoke."

"You're returning to the compulsive smoker you were Christan." Dan warned.

"Gotta lot on my mind."

Dan rolled his eyes. If whatever was on Christan's mind was considered a lot, he wondered what his lot would be called. He was about to go on a date with Vivian. The woman he used to love is back, working with him in the same building where he had fallen in love with her. His sister and father would probably surprise him with a visit soon, considering October was coming. He had a whole section of articles to direct and edit before the end of next week so that it would be ready for the October issue.

Then he thought that it was unfair of him to judge Christan. He might have problems Dan knew nothing of, although it was hard to conclude that from his general composure.

"Come now, don't let Blair get to you. She can be intense but it's all because she is dedicated. She doesn't mean most of the things she says."

_She wants to impress you_, a remote voice pointed out in his head. He shooed it away, ignoring the ephemeral warmth the notion produced in the pit of his stomach.

"Blair?" Christan said, then, as if remembering her existence, he added, "Oh no! It's not about her. Matters of the heart, you know? You remember Nina from photocopies, the one with the weird green glasses?"

He had a vague image of a young, red-haired girl with a high voice and an awkward social disposition.

"I thought you hated that girl?" Dan remarked.

The elevator doors opened, allowing them to access the crowded lobby. They had to separate to allow in those obnoxious workers who had huddled right in front of the doors to guarantee themselves a spot. He spotted Vivian's auburn hair in the distance.

"Yeah, then I liked her and then I hated her again. She is like…like you know…like cigarettes! I can't quit her." Christan mumbled grumpily, taking out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his black jeans.

"Very imaginative comparison. I wonder how you came up with it." Dan teased. "Well, it seems this Nina is causing you to smoke again so if you truly _quit _her, than your lungs would be all the better for it." Dan paused to wave towards Vivian, whose face smiled upon seeing him. "I sound like your dad, don't I?"

They both winced at the suggestion before laughing loudly.

"Actually, no you don't. My dad was too easy going for his own good. He'd tell me to go with the flow. He was one of those late hipsters in his forties who had loved the sixties as if he had lived them."

"Now I see where you get it from."

Christan widened his eyes in a moue of innocence, like he had no idea what Dan was referring to.

"Get what?" He asked but he laughed, unable to keep the pretence going. With that he waved goodbye and headed for the large glass doors to the outside.

One thing that was great about Christan, is that he knew exactly what kind of character he was.

**It was not exactly a date. **They always met up after work to go over the issues of the day, future appointments and upcoming events. But Dan thought that they just _knew _that it was more than a work-related get together. The way he had asked her and the way she had replied, with a lingering smile and look. Vivian would never be bold enough to plainly ask if that was a date and somehow, he was okay with that. He was still unsure of getting into a relationship. He liked Vivian but he still felt a negative old man inside, one who had lived every possible heartache and whose heart has dehydrated into a dried plum. He was trying to revive himself but he could not be hasty.

He had taken her to the café they both loved, one of those charmingly shabby places that were so unlike _W _and its whole building. For three hours, they remained and not once did they speak of work.

Yes, that must have been a date.

Before parting ways, he had kissed her on the cheek, something he had never done, not even on her birthday. He watched her blush and decided that he found it pretty. She left soon after that, embarrassed but her smile betrayed her feelings.

He was smiling too.

**At the loft, however, it was of Blair he thought of.**

He was left in his living room, where she had been so often before, mourning their past conversations. It had taken a full four years before they had dared call each other friends. Four years. Four years of mutual dislike slowly turning into acceptance, then friendship. And then, Dan had never thought he would enjoy conversing with anyone else in the whole word. It had hit him like a meteor at that time; that Blair made him look forward to their next talk. He would sometimes sleep, imagining replies to an argument he had lost just so that he could reiterate them to her on the morrow. Then of course, being Blair, she would tease him about how it took him a whole night to come up with them but he didn't care because he knew there was no more malice in her.

It was a shame, really. If she had valued his friendship, they might have retained those conversations.

Now, he wondered how long it would take for them to have that again.

Then, he did feel sorry for not being able to forgive her. He knew she had nobody. Nate had never been as close to her as he had been. As for Vanessa, he doubted that this new friendship had already bloomed into a "let's talk about our feelings and experiences" thing yet.

She had been away for ten years. New York changed everyday therefore such a long lapse of time must have turned it into a completely different environment to her.

He set his coffee aside and jumped to his computer. It took him a while but he finally found her number.

He dialled it, hoping he had not gotten the wrong one from someone who had a similar name.

"Hello." A child's voice spoke.

"Hey!" Dan exclaimed. "Could I speak to Dorota please?"

"Mommy!" He heard the girl say."Some guy for you."

"Who is it?" He heard Dorota ask which brought a smile to his face. She had always been a cautious one.

"Don't know. Some guy. Not Polish, don't worry."

Dan couldn't help but laugh, which made Dorota sound almost hostile when she picked up the phone.

"Yes?"

"Dorota!" Dan greeted and he was genuinely happy to hear her voice. He had always liked Dorota and something told him that she had always liked him too. "It's me Dan."

"Dan? Lonely Boy Dan?" Dorota said laughingly. "This is surprising. How are you and your father? And sister too?"

"We're all well and you? How is Vanya and Anna?"

"They are good. We have a boy now too. His name is Leo and he is almost a year old." Dorota said with pride. Her Polish accent had almost disappeared and her grammar was almost exemplary. Dan now realized how long it has been since he had last seen her.

"Oh my God, I'm so…congratulations! I can't believe I didn't know. I'm sorry about that. I swear, I'll come visit you this week, that is if you still live in New York."

"No matter!" She said nicely. "I know you had things on your mind Dan. I understand and I know who you think of when you hear Dorota. Don't be sorry…But yes, we still live in the same place. We'll be glad to see you, if you can come."

"Of course I can!"

"So, I know this is a bit direct but what made you decide to call me Dan?"

It was a bit bizarre not to be addressed as Mr. Humphrey or Lonely Boy anymore. A lot of things had changed indeed. He wondered what Dorota has been doing all this time, where she worked at and how Vanya was faring. He assumed they were still together. He had never doubted Dorota and Vanya. Unlike his father and Lily, those two were actually well-sensed adults who had known how to make the other happy.

"It's Blair. She is back in New York and I think she needs a friend."

He proceeded then to explain the whole situation to Dorota, how Blair was working for him, how he was still unable to move past his resentment and how he still wished for her to be happy. At the end of his narrative (which Dan found very therapeutic), Dorota seemed deep in thought.

"Well?" Dan urged her to speak.

"Miss Blair had stopped contacting me five years ago. I don't know if she wants me in her life anymore."

She still called her 'Miss Blair' though.

"Of course she does. Look, nobody was in contact with her. Granted, I didn't want to be anyways but even Nate had no calls or emails from her. I don't know why—"

"Why do you care?" Dorota cut him.

"Um, well I told you right? I think she needs someone to talk to, whether it's about Chuck or being back here. I made it clear I can't be that person but that doesn't mean I don't feel bad."

"Uh-huh." Dorota said, doubt dripping from her tone. "If she really wanted to talk, she knows where I live."

"But she's probably shy and feeling guilty! It takes time for her, you know how it goes."

He couldn't believe he was trying to convince Dorota, Blair's number one fan, to seek out Blair.

"You're awfully too concerned. Doesn't seem like you dislike her that much."

He sighed.

"I…Alright, look it's your choice. But whether or not you decide to call her, I'm still coming to visit you this week alright? Is Friday a good time?" Then he added as an afterthought,"And don't tell her that I called you okay? Just say you heard she was in the city through the papers or gossip magazines."

"Okay. As for Friday, I can do in the afternoon. I'll cook supper. You still like my beef stew?"

"Never tasted one better!"

"Good." The former maid replied. "And Dan?"

"Yes."

"Try harder to pretend you don't care okay? You can't fool me, you know that? We Polish are clever."

With that, she ended the conversation.

When were people ever going to stop telling him how he felt?

**That evening, Blair did receive a call from Dorota; a call inviting her for supper on Friday.**

*****Edited this because I actually meant Leo to be a year old! Sorry for the confusion!*****

**A/N: Alright, so here is my update. I do hope that you like it as usual. I love all your reviews. So, how are you liking Christan so far? I am basing his character off someone I know in real life and I think he will be fun to read. Do not worry, Dan and Blair will end up together but I'm not planning on using Christan or Vivian as mere plot devices. I think they can add to the story too. I didn't want to dwell on Dan and Vivian's first date too long as I know you guys aren't really into them but they are bound to have their scenes coming up soon. And I am planning for a Vivian POV too.**

**Anyways, I'm sorry for the time I take to update. I'm overwhelmed with work :-(. I shall try to update The UES Killers ASAP!**

**I love you all, and do review if you can!**


	6. Dorota knows, doesn't she?

**The update is here! Yay! Again, I thank lovelycupcake from the bottom of my heart for her thorough reviews and general guidance when it comes to this story. And you too Magnus57 (for every single one of your reviews. They have always been constant and you have helped me through the writing of every one of my Dair fics!). **

**I also want to cite everyone else. I hate sounding like I'm doing some favoritism out here so I'll have a list on my author's profile dedicated to all of you who follow my stories.**

**Anyways, enough with the sappiness!**

The shots were amazing. Blair went into her office and found an envelope with a 'To Miss Waldorf' scribbled carelessly on with black marker. It was Wednesday, two days after she had gone to complain about Christan to Dan, who had not seemed moved by her pleas. Today, she was supposed to meet with two of the other candidates for the feature to take some final shots for the blog profile. This blog idea had come from Dan himself, although she had not heard it from his own mouth. They had not spoken since Monday and Blair avoided the two group meetings by focusing on her work with her feature on the costume players. Spending time with Christan now appeared like a poor price to pay compared to being in company of Dan.

Of Dan _and_ Vivian.

She was to keep a blog, to extend on what could not be mentioned in the magazine article. Vivian had encouraged her to post anything: goofy photographs, impressions on her experience, judgments or interviews, thoughts and critiques…literally anything.

"Dan told me you had a blog during your internship here, so it shouldn't be hard at all! You just need to get people interested so they might feel like buying the paper copy. Of course, don't reveal too much or else, there won't be a point to having the feature."

Vivian obviously did not know that Dan had written the sole article of the blog she had managed briefly during her internship.

One of the photographs struck her particularly. Up until then, the others only featured the cosplayers, their costumes and working environment but there _she _was.

Jacqueline, one of the cosplayers, was the best one to interview. She was in her late thirties and an avid reader of Victor Hugo and Maupassant, a result of her French upbringing. Blair initially planned for a thirty minutes interview but two hours passed and the two of them were nowhere near done talking. Blair's own love of French culture and her years in Paris were fuel for a long, almost frenetic conversation where topic after topic emerged and re-emerged. Jacqueline then took her to her large closet where vintage designer pieces mingled with more modern ones. She owned old Chanel skirts and Burberry trench coats that could easily pass for period pieces. And for a while, the both of them took to dressing up under Jacqueline's insistence. Although Blair had doubted the offer, being one for favoring her own clothes over anyone else's, the activity turned out to be much more fun than anything that had happened to her in a long while.

Christan had listened to the first hour of their conversation, sometimes taking out a cigarette before remembering that he was inside someone else's apartment. Jacqueline, seeing his obvious lack of interest allowed him carte blanche around her abode so he had roamed the place taking idle pictures of her different eclectic decorations and furniture. Blair paid no attention to him, so engrossed she was in gushing over Jacqueline's re-creation of Cosette's dress from the 2012 film _Les Misérables. _

_He must have taken it while we were dressing up._

She looked uncharacteristically childish in that photo. Jacqueline had given her a long petticoat with lace frills around the collar and the wrists. Its color was of a light, tender pink that Blair had never grown to dislike. Jacqueline had thrown a hat that resembled closely one from the British royalty and Blair's hair had turned into two ponytails. She looked positively ridiculous but so did Jacqueline in her 60s dress and platform disco shoes.

"Why do you own all of that?" Blair asked in front of the large mirror of her walk-in.

"Because, it's fun and I can!" Jacqueline exclaimed. "And fashion changes all the time and sometimes, these pieces come in handy."

"You're nearly converting me to cosplaying!" She posed dramatically, looking like an Austen heroine who might have turned naughty.

Jacqueline imitated a Bond girl pose next to her and the two fought hard to hold back their laughs. That's the shot that Christan had managed to take from the left side.

It annoyed her that he took that picture. It was a nice photograph but it embarrassed her. That moment between the two women in their thirties doing something so unbelievably ridiculous, was not meant to be seen by others and even less to be captured by some bored-out-of-his-wits youth.

She set the photographs aside but Christan came at that exact moment.

"I'm ready to go." He stated, not looking towards her but downwards at his phone's screen.

She disapproved of every single thing he wore. Every single one.

"Why did you take that picture?" Blair asked, fishing it out from her desk and holding it up towards him.

Christan observed it for a second longer than necessary. He slid his phone inside his pocket with a long sigh.

"I'm a photographer. I thought that was a moment." His flat voice irritated her but she forced herself to remain calm, knowing she was not really angry with him.

"Why did you even stay? I thought you took all the shots you needed. You really didn't have to stay."

Christan looked her in the eyes and she was pierced with the blueness of his irises. They were so light and crystalline. She had never in her life seen eyes like his and she felt foolish for not noticing them before. For a moment, she was almost able to forget his outrageous outfit.

But Christan was most obviously bored with this conversation and it deterred Blair from pursuing any fanciful thought that might have been forming itself in her mind.

"I was afraid to leave, you know, considering you're pretty strict. I didn't want you to find a reason to get Dan to fire me…"

_Dan_. She was suddenly self-conscious and embarrassed.

"Well, you've done your job. You didn't have to stay." She paused before thinking of the photographs. She _had _been unfair to him. "And they've turned out, well, quite…well. Very well."

He turned those striking blue eyes towards her once more. Their usual flatness of expression seemed slightly disturbed with disbelief.

"Thank you." He said at last.

There was no _I told you so'_s although she knew she deserved them. He simply turned aside and headed for the door.

"I'll be in the lobby." Christan announced.

Blair took that photograph of her and Jacqueline. It did look nice and somehow, he had managed not to make them look absurd. It was a moment indeed. The light from Jacqueline's window hit them from the top, casting a spotlight-like gleam around them. He had probably played around with the editing but in the end, they looked like two women who shared a nice laugh. May be she had her blog picture after all.

The taxi ride was as awkward as ever. Blair looked over her agenda, trying to reconcile Dorota's dinner with the meeting with her lawyer. She had to call him soon and reschedule. With her pen, she crossed things around dramatically and marked down events as if the sole vivacity of her gestures could suggest that she was not to be bothered. Christan never once looked towards her.

After a while, and much flourished scribbling, Blair came to a halt. She felt she ought to say something. The full power of her words came back to her like a tidal wave of embarrassment. Her head had jumped into judgments, the way her seventeen-year-old self used to do, and was once more proven wrong. She felt like she had regressed back into those old habits of hers, the same ones that had harmed her. Wasn't it judgment and prejudice that had blinded her from Dan's qualities in the past? She had never allowed herself to see past the Brooklyn location and when she had finally managed to do so, she convinced herself that it would not work, that Dan would ultimately fail her. But she was the one who had failed him.

Breathing in, Blair forced herself to say:

"So, after this one, I guess you won't have to bear with me any longer." She laughed nervously, meaning to communicate that failure of a joke.

She could smell the cigarette mingling with cologne and as much as she tried to tell herself that she hated it, she could not stop inhaling. The scent would have been offsetting on almost anyone else, even Dan, but Christan, with his messy blond hair, washed out jeans and leather jacket just made it work.

He barely took his eyes off the window.

"I'm sure we are both very happy to be relieved of each other's company."

It was a neutral statement with no feeling. Once again, Blair tried to suppress a jolt of irritation.

New York flew them by so noisy while they were confined in that perimeter of uncomfortable silence. Normally, this would have suited her just fine. She had never been much of an insisting person before. But the situation with Christan extended to Dan too. Dan was the one who appointed him to her and in having been a capricious despot with him she had proven Dan right. He'd think she would never change and may be he would be right.

Divorcing Chuck didn't mean a thing. She had brought that evil of a marriage on herself. It was _her _attitudes, _her _decisions.

In the corner of the backseat, Blair was seized with dread as far-reaching as the buildings surrounding them. It weighed like concrete at the pit of her stomach while she silently wondered: would she ever change?

"I'm sorry." She said rather brusquely and she didn't regret the suddenness of her words.

Christan turned to her. She could not read him so she watched the city pass them by, reacquainting herself with streets and neighborhoods she had not seen in years. New York was not overtly romantic like Paris. Her younger self had hated it. Now, that was what she needed most. There was realism in this city. It was not a place of fairytale-like encounters where she could meet a redeemed Chuck Bass on a bridge by la Seine dressed in a dramatic red dress as if it where the most natural thing, as if it were expected to happen. And God, she should have known that the real romance had been in New York all along and that it wasn't about expensive bracelets or bow ties but evenings of stimulating conversations and coffee mugs. This is what she longed for.

Christan didn't say anything but Blair understood that there was nothing that he could have said anyway.

**The last candidate for the feature was a young woman of about Christan's age. **Her name was Carrie and she kept on eyeing him every five minutes, rendering Blair's attempts at extracting clear and coherent answers from her rather futile.

"So," Blair announced, seeing that she had lost interest in the interview altogether. "How about we get to the costumes?"

Carrie could not have looked more elated. She led them to her bedroom where her dress was laid out on a well-made bed.

"Mmm, very dark." Christan commented.

"What did you use to make it?" Blair asked quickly in order to stop her from getting carried away in a conversation with him.

"Taffeta, some silk and velvet. The fabric actually comes from old clothes I found in thrift stores around town. They cost too much if I buy them from the rolls."

"Care to mention which thrift stores?"

"I'd rather not." Carrie then looked conspicuously towards Christan, as if expecting some sort of understanding from him. Blair was surprised to see him nod with a smile.

"When people find out, it's the worse." He said.

"Right?" Carrie approved fervently. "Then, all the good pieces would disappear!"

Blair had a hard time believing that people were so protective of stores that sold used clothes. It was something she could never fathom understanding.

"And who are you supposed to be?" Blair continued.

"I'm not sure actually. I guess I took inspiration from Bellatrix Lestrange's looks in the Harry Potter movies. I just wanted a corset."

"Yeah, we've seen a lot of those." Christan said.

"But mine is different." Carrie defended unconvincingly.

They allowed her to put the costume on, waiting outside in her living room. Christan was tapping his fingers on the side table. She could only hear that and the muffled sounds of Carrie's fumbling with the costume.

In every inconsequential moment, Blair's thoughts wandered into the 'Dan' territory of her mind. She wondered what he was doing right now, whether he thought of her or not. There was nobody she could speak to. Nate and Vanessa had made it perfectly clear that they would take a Switzerland stance on the whole matter, being reluctant to make a distinction between their two friends. Vanessa kept on telling her that Dan would come around but Vanessa had never cheated on him.

Then, she tried to forget that he had written a book about her. The mere thought was overwhelming, even now, more than ten years after its publication. How could she have forgotten that? How could she have gone back to Chuck? Why did she even waste all that time with Louis! Blair had looked for romanticism, for narratives of the classical nature of broken heroes turned into perfect gentlemen…

Nothing would ever be equal to what Dan had done for her.

She willed Carrie to come out just so that she could be distracted. It was rather obvious that Christan would not offer any conversation.

However, when Carrie walked into the living room, it was impossible not to look towards Christan and it appeared that he found it impossible not to look towards her.

The costume revealed itself to be raunchier than what Blair had assumed it to be. The corset barely covered a fifth of her breasts; both looked like the slightest inhalation of air would send them out in the open for everyone to see. It would have seemed somewhat acceptable had the skirt not been made of see-through lace fabric. That dress or costume broke every rule of decency and none of the other cosplayers she interviewed had even come close to such attire.

Christan raised one eyebrow. He was not especially shocked at what he was seeing but Blair was certain that it was her own reaction that amused him.

"That's…I don't ever remember Bellatrix dressing that way." Blair managed to say. She was unable to fully conceal the disapproval in her tone. Her memories of Helena Bonham Carter's character were vague but she was pretty certain that the Harry Potter movies were g-rated.

"Well, I said I was _inspired _by Bellatrix. Can't you see? The corset?" Carrie replied, turning towards Christan who gave much too enthusiastic nod in response. "I mean, I tried to make it a little more sexy."

_A little more sexy? What was not already sexy about Bellatrix Lestrange's robes? _

"I think it's great." Christan offered, reaching for his camera. "Are you ready for the photographs?"

"Wait!" Blair interjected. "Can I speak to you privately?" Turning to Carrie, she added "It won't be long, just some magazine matters to sort out."

Christan followed her to the hall next to the exit.

"We can't take photographs of..of _that_!" Blair whispered. "That's not what _W _stands for!"

He watched her smiling a little.

"Really? You don't know the magazine very well then. Don't you remember the Kim Kardashian shoot?" Christan replied, not bothering to lower his voice.

"I don't remember Kim Kardashian full stop."

He laughed at that.

"Alright then, the Beckhams' shoot? That was nearly pornographic." He stopped a little to muse on the subject. "In fact, I think it _was _pornographic."

Blair grew impatient.

"Okay, yes, but the thing is those shoots were classy. We're doing cosplaying here and she looks as tacky and classless as a slutty Halloween witch. I don't think she is fit to be on the feature."

"Well, that's where I come in, or haven't you learned by now? I'll turn her into a tasteful pseudo-Bellatrix in no time. That's my job." Christan rolled his eyes. "I don't know why you're still reluctant. I mean, Jacqueline was in her thirties and I made her look good too. Same for the rest."

She reflected on his words. He was right. Again.

"Go ahead." She said, defeated.

Christan grinned and walked off. Then he turned at the last second and said:

"You know, your spread can benefit from some raunchiness. Sex sells."

**Photographs taken, the both of them were finally free to leave Carrie's apartment. **Out in the streets, they waited for their cab to show up. He stood a few feet away from her, observing an old woman walking her dog. Blair pretended to be watching for the cab, not wanting to share the same object of observation just in case Christan happened to look her way.

It was he who addressed her out of the blue.

"I made her stand sideways, with her arms drawn up."

Blair tried to picture it in her mind.

"You'll see, you'll approve." He assured her but his tone was as unattached as usual. However, Blair got the impression that he was _trying _to get a conversation going, which made no sense to her since they obviously had nothing in common and would benefit from silence much more.

"You're no Leibovitz yet. Don't get too high and almighty." Blair replied jokingly.

"You made it sound like your approval was worth a royal title or something." Christan replied with a smirk.

Her eyes lingered on the small dimple that appeared on the corner of his cheek. It was surprising since he had such an angular face. She had never imagined a dimple on him. It made him seem a little charming; as if he was more than the bored, clueless youth she had judged him to be.

"I have worked in fashion for far longer which means my expectations somehow got inflated." She offered.

"You were head of Waldorf Designs." He commented to Blair's surprise. Upon seeing her expression, he added, "I'm a fashion photographer now, I did my research."

_What if he knows about Dan's book! He seems awfully close to him. I can't handle any more people being aware of this._

"What else do you know about me?" She kept her tone cool and composed.

Christan casually took out a cigarette and lit it. Blair stepped aside as politely as she could. She wondered whether he was trying to avoid her question but as soon as his first inhalation was taken, he refocused on her person. The smoke oozed out of his mouth almost sensuously; something she could not keep her eyes from.

"Not much except that." Christan replied at last. "You're not _that _interesting you know so sorry for not having had the urge to background you."

His fingers brought the cigarette back to his lips as if to punctuate his little jab. She watched his dexterous movement, the way his jaw would move from the inhalation and that little tap of the index to get rid of the ash. Blair didn't think she had ever been that close to a smoker in her life. She felt she was watching a movie and Christan looked entirely too glamorous doing something that she despised.

His answer, brought with his characteristic ennui should have irritated her. After all, being acknowledged as interesting was what all these years at Waldorf Designs should have accumulated to. On the other hand, Christan was refreshing. He didn't seem to care. He was surrounded with professionals but he knew his worth enough not to defend himself or parade his skills.

He couldn't care less about Blair Waldorf, ex-head of Waldorf Designs, ex-muse of Daniel Humphrey and imminent ex-wife of Charles Bass. She was nothing to him but a superior he must satisfy. And that, he did.

To be standing close to someone who knew nothing of her and who didn't _care _was pleasant, even relieving.

"I can't believe she would show up wearing whatever that was in front of so many people." Blair said after a few seconds. "Where is decency? Not to say that it didn't look entirely flattering either."

"It was not bad. I liked it." He paused to finish his cigarette. She watched him throw it on the ground and stomp on it. "You would hate Comic Con."

That word was not entirely unfamiliar to her.

"That comic book convention or something?"

"Yes and no. Also graphic novels, movies and television shows. Lots of writers and actors too. The costume players are hardcore. The ones in your article?" He made a face. "Lowest of amateurs."

"What do you mean?" And it came out rather defensive. She was worried that her material was not good enough or not the best she could ever present to Dan. This was crucial. She had to do it right.

"Don't worry." He said although the flatness of his tone did nothing to appease her little fear. "What you got is suitable for _W_."

When their taxi arrived, Blair assumed that conversation would naturally die out as if they had only needed to talk in order to fill the time. It was awkward for she was convinced he would take out his phone and relegate himself to the sanctity of his corner in the car. They did not entirely converse but here and there, bits of talk would escape them, comments about a certain spot in the city, remarks on the featured people, general thoughts about _W _and its people. She learned, and she had to cleverly lead Christan towards the topic by mentioning Dan, that Christan had know him for a few years, that he considered him like an older brother. Blair tried to hide the interest but her heartbeat had risen up, the way any girl's would when the name of her beloved was mentioned.

It was a rather interesting experience. As far as she was concerned, she had never fully lived the part of a girl crush when it came to Dan. Her whole relationship with him had come in the middle of a chaotic period of her life where feelings for Chuck and a divorce from Louis had sandwiched Dan in the middle. He had loved her more. Yet, the realization of her feelings for him came so suddenly and like a flame striving for oxygen, it flickered with uncertainty while Chuck loomed above her like a shadow she could not escape. Her love for Dan had never been given a chance. She did not nurse a crush, did not reflect like any other girl on the littlest of moment, did not enjoy their movie dates as events that could be romantic in their nature. It was always Chuck, Chuck, Chuck.

Ironically, now, in her thirties, was the moment to live all this. The shortest of look from Dan could set her heart in an uncontrollable flutter. She loved to see him, hated that she had to stay away because it was too awkward. She created scenarios in her head, in which he would forgive her and in which Vivian did not exist.

That was what Dan must have felt like during those times.

**She was running late for Dorota's dinner. **Friday had come so quickly and the state of things with Dan did not change much. She refused to speak to him any longer than necessary even if it pained her. He was with Vivian and apparently Blair was not a viable option for friendship. The little pride she had left was all she could preserve.

It took time to find an appropriate outfit. High heels were never out of the question for Blair but she was going to see Dorota. And Vanya. And their two kids. She didn't want to look too dressed up. This was supposed to be casual. After a few trials, she settled for dark green Chloé flare pants and a dotted silk blouse from her own designs. Then, she topped the whole thing with low-heeled Ferragamos and a light pink lipstick.

Her hair, which looked too strict in the current bob she was sporting, was curled, something that Dorota used to do for her back in the days. That was what took her time. The curling iron was a strange device, especially the latest designs, which were now very hard to figure out. Twice, she burned her fingers and until the desired effect was obtained, Blair would not allow herself to leave the penthouse.

Queens had changed, that much was obvious to her. Whereas the young Blair had disliked it as much, if not more, as she did Brooklyn, right then, the sight in front of her was not so unsettling to her. She could see that buildings had been restored and green areas had sprung up here and there. Cozy little cafés were spread around and Blair only counted five graffiti in total.

When the taxi dropped her off, she took a while before pressing on the doorbell, delaying the moment where she would see her again. Her sense of guilt was back and kicking at her insides like an angry horse. Although Dorota had sounded so happy on the phone, it changed nothing to the fact that Blair had cut her off from her life.

Then she breathed in and pressed the button.

The climb to the second floor of the apartment building was tedious. She was happy, and nervous, both in equal amounts. How old were her kids? Would Vanya be there? What could they possibly talk about? Blair quickly brainstormed a few topics; her children came first, then Blair could mention _W _and perhaps gossip a little about Penelope or Nelly Yuki, her former minions who were now rather successful running their own companies. And Nate and Vanessa. Those were great topics to discuss.

When the door opened, Blair stood speechless for a moment before realizing that this was Dorota. There was no flourished salutation needed and instead, they embraced each other, Blair feeling an insurmountable amount of feelings for that woman.

Oh, they cried rather abundantly, standing next to the door. Dorota held her face between her plump hands, laughing between tears.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Blair managed to say. "That's how awful I am."

"It's alright Miss Blair." They both laughed at the nickname, remembering old times. "You were always a little awful" Dorota added. "But I put up with it well so I deserved five years of break from you, didn't I?"

She pushed Blair inside, closing the door behind her. A girl of about thirteen years old walked towards them. She had Dorota's round face and Vanya's blond hair but her demeanor was entirely her mother's. She watched the two of them, looking like she was not sure what to make of the tears and running noses.

"Why are you crying mama?" She asked looking at Blair.

"Because, I missed my friend, that is why." Dorota answered quaveringly. "This is Blair, Anna."

"Gross. Aren't you supposed to be happy when you meet friends?" Anna said to her mother before going towards Blair and holding out her hand. It was a little formal but Blair recognized herself in the gesture. "My mother talks a lot about you." She stated simply.

Blair was about to reply but Anna spoke first, this time to her mother again.

"You didn't cry for the other guest here. You said he was an old friend too."

_Other guest?_

Dorota said something to her in Polish, or Russian, in that tone of hers that indicated she was being serious. Anna gave Blair a quizzical look before walking away towards the depth of the apartment.

Blair looked around. She remembered how spacious Dorota's apartment was and things had not changed very much since she had last seen it. It felt like a home, the way the Humphrey's loft had felt, even when she refused to acknowledge it. There were more family photographs on the walls; one picturing them at Disneyland with Vanya making a goofy face while Dorota was giving him an exasperated look.

She heard the sound of a television and Vanya's voice mingling with someone else's she couldn't yet recognize. She imagined Dorota had invited one of their acquaintances to join, which Blair didn't mind. The smell of stew was hanging in the air and she was thankful to have skipped lunch for this. Nothing could quite rival with Dorota's cooking.

"Your daughter…" Blair began a little awkwardly. Silence had befallen them and she had to extricate herself out of it. "I really like her. She has your spirit."

Dorota laughed.

"I got my spirit partly from you Blair." She answered.

_She hasn't changed much, _Blair thought. She had lost a little bit of weight but her face was still as round as ever. There were wrinkles, but very faint. She was dressed rather stylishly, wearing a burgundy velvet dress with black tights and black heels. Her hair was to her shoulders, neatly cut and straightened. Dorota caught Blair's assessing look.

"You approve? I tried my best. Not everyday we have a head of Waldorf design coming to our home." Dorota joked.

"I love it."

"How are you?" Dorota asked, peering at her face and Blair was aware of just how much the woman was perceptive.

"I'm well." Blair said, which was not a complete lie. She was happy to be away from Chuck and back in New York. She added, seeing Dorota's skeptical look. "I really am! What's better than seeing you again Dorota?"

"My beef stew, I think." Dorota exclaimed. "Alright, come. Vanya has almost forgotten who you are. And you must see Leo!"

Blair followed Dorota down the long corridor. The noises of the television became clearer but neither Vanya or the other guest were speaking. When they emerged in front of the large living room, which was also linked to the dining room, Blair's eyes fell directly on Dan, sitting right in front of her.

His eyes widened in surprise but he quickly looked away. It was all it took from Blair not to turn back and leave. Embarrassed, she barely had time to scold Dorota (for she knew that it was her idea) before Vanya stood up to meet her.

"Miss Blair! So glad to see you again! It's been so long." He offered her a hug that she reciprocated rather awkwardly. "We have a surprise for you!"

He pointed at Dan, visibly designating him as the intended surprise. Blair found herself smiling nervously.

"Surprise?" She repeated, sounding almost hysterical.

_How can I get myself out of this!_ She was not ready for this. She was mad at Dan. He was mad at her and their troubles were rather irreconcilable.

"Yes!" Vanya repeated enthusiastically and she felt horrible for not sharing his excitement. He obviously expected her to be happy about this. One look towards Dorota gave her nothing. The woman pointedly adverted her gaze. Vanya continued, "Dorota told me you were back in New York and you lost track of friends! She made me keep secret so you and Dan would have a surprise."

Vanya's smile never faltered and his blue eyes gleamed with intent. Then he frowned a little comically.

"Come on. Don't be shy." Blair didn't understand the comment but Vanya soon clarified it to her. "Hug! You're not too old yet!"

"You know you want to." Dorota added pointedly. "We understand."

Oh, she would kill her later for this but the thoughts vanished as soon as she saw Dan stand up. Was he actually going through with it? Blair had thought of politely declining, although in what manner, she could not yet fathom. However, Dan most definitely was going for the hug. He cleared his throat, smiling uneasily while avoiding her eyes.

Her heart was a mess.

"It's…it's nice to see you again." Blair said as a means to satisfy Vanya. As far as she could tell, he seemed to be doing this out of innocence, unlike his wife, who stood by, watching the scene with a knowing smile on her lips.

"You too." Was Dan's rough reply. He walked towards her and suddenly, she _wanted _the hug.

Yes, it was awkward and highly reluctant from his part but at the same time, this was all she could ever have. It was a morsel for her starved heart and who was she to say no? Surely, while he was walking towards her, it seemed rather senseless not to desire it a little.

Blair met him halfway and he looked at her briefly as if gauging her reaction but then, his face disappeared when his arms circled her. She breathed in his scent, the coffee and cologne mix and it made her own arms reach for him, grasping for the littlest, briefest contact she could have. He still felt the same, after all these years.

She was at peace for a few seconds; the kind that she knew only Dan could give her.

"I missed you." Blair said softly and it was not a pretense made for Vanya. It was the truth.

It made her hold tighter, her fingers digging into his strong back. A few of his curls tickled her neck and cheek. Blair felt Dan exhale. He didn't say anything but it would have been too hopeful to expect a reply. She felt him pull away gently, always conscious not to hurt her feelings too much. His eyes bore into hers and there was the reply he could not voice. He had missed her too. He just couldn't say it.

"Mama, when are we eating?" Anna's voice boomed from the kitchen, making the two of them step further away from each other as if shocked by a jellyfish. "I'm hungry and the guests are here!"

Dorota said something rather loudly in Polish, which made Anna apologize frantically. Vanya was looking at the two of them, beaming like he had fixed all the troubles in the world.

Dorota urged them to take their seats around the dining table, smiling all the while quite differently from Vanya. While he seemed genuinely content, Dorota appeared to be more _satisfied_, as if she had just proved something. Blair wondered why she kept glancing towards Dan, who tried his best to avoid her looks.

This dinner would definitely be interesting.

**SORRY! I know it took time! It hurts me so much to update so late. I actually made myself do it despite having finals coming soon. I love all of you who will be kind enough to still leave reviews. They really do fuel my writing, even if it may seem that I have abandoned these stories, which I did not. Let me tell you that the state of things in Gossip Girl is revolting to me, which makes me even more eager to keep writing my fics. I will never let go of Dair. Never.**

**Also, this update was supposed to be longer but I cut it so that I could give you something rather than nothing. I felt it necessary to have some Christan/Blair moments first. Next chapter will be the full dinner scene.**

**If you have it in you to leave a review, I shall be entirely grateful! Also, thanks to lovelycupcake for your great PM (which I will try to reply to ASAP).**

**Take care!**


	7. All talk is good talk, is it not?

**Thank you for all the reviews! I'm finally making a shout out list heheh! So this only includes everyone who reviewed for the latest chapter (I'll keep the shout out list at the beginning of every update and it'll always include the people who reviewed the latest chapters):**

**Guest, Hmmn, Kiyomaro-kun, moanmp, Rf, Guest and Guest (lots of those around ehehheh), Krispieso, MAGNUS57 (I always love your reviews!), Yh13, WordsIcantsay, Avery, DH, palmtree4665, TheSmallSpoon, tabitha, lovelycupcake (thanks for your great pm 3), upforsomething, Maria, doubleedgesoul, Lovehate1231 and another Guest.**

**I love all of you and I hope this story never gives you a reason to stop reviewing.**

He should have known that Dorota would do something. All her years with Blair must have rubbed off on her because the woman had been as sneaky as her mistress of the earlier days.

She had lured him well with the seemingly unaware-of-anything Vanya entertaining him through conversation. He had been coaxed into an unwilling hug with no other than Blair while Dorota watched with that self-satisfied smirk.

He was too engrossed in his attempts to act nonchalantly that he had no time to dwell on the fact that he had felt quite too much for Blair in that small instant. He made his way towards the dinner room, following an enthusiastic Vanya who was rambling about Leo who was still asleep in his room.

Thankfully, the table was quite large and it could accept as many as six people. Vanya took one end and Dan sat on his right. He kept his eyes downcast, fixating the empty plate as if it held some sort of solution to this dreadful evening.

Blair took the seat in front of his. He had not expected any luck. She could hardly take the other end of the table, which Dan knew was for Dorota as it was near the kitchen. There could have been only two options: in front of or next to him. He tried to determine which one was worse but each option had its equal dose of discomfort. He'd run the risk of physical contact, of which he had had enough for a lifetime with that hug, if Blair had taken his right. However, he was bound to meet her eyes during the length of the dinner and that was another form of distress.

Vanya was focusing on Blair since Dan had already been conversed with earlier. Dorota was in the kitchen and he saw her moving around in agile movements, playing with the oven's switch and sautéing something all simultaneously. He noticed she purposefully kept her back to them, which told Dan that she was thoroughly aware of how frustrated he was at her.

He had specifically warned her not to say anything. Granted, she might not have said something but it was hard not to believe that this was a staged reunion. What if Blair had wanted this? Wasn't she angry with him?

Suddenly, even Vanya's eagerness and warmth began to be an object of suspicion. Could Vanya really not know anything, he who had worked at the Van der Woodsen's building for years? Dorota must have told him of their awful lack of breakup. She must have, at one point in time, mentioned that Blair had left him for Chuck with no notice. He _must_ know that there is no way that he, Dan, could be expected to rejoice at this turn of events.

Vanya was asking her the general niceties; her parents were inquired after, then her friends (Blair quickly brushed over that) and finally, her time in Paris. These were all questions that Dan never bothered to ask her mainly because he had never found a proper time or will. Until then, he had not cared to hear about Paris or Chuck or how much Eleanor Waldorf approved of the match. They were topics of bitterness he would rather avoid but being a third-party in this conversation made it quite easier to be curious. He found he would rather hear her answers to Vanya than have to ask for them himself.

On the topic of Chuck, Blair appeared a bit distressed, like someone who had just been reminded of an unpleasant memory. He saw her eyebrows rise, feigning a keenness to answer but Dan knew her enough to recognize it as an act.

"He's really great." Blair said but it almost sounded like she wished him to be ill. "He's still in Paris. You know…Bass Industries."

Bass Industries indeed. He'd heard these words so many times; he was almost conditioned to feel some sort of superficial admiration and respect for the goddamned name. He had seen others, the likes of Penelope, gossip about it. Then, it had been the newspapers with their spread on the company's finances, its various scandals and upheavals…the gossip columns and their talks of Bass and Waldorf unions. Right then, on those specific words, he felt the undertone of bitterness but Blair would say no more on the topic. Instead, she managed to slip in a question about Leo and succeeded in directing Vanya's excitement towards a more prolific topic.

"Leo is a blessing. We thought we'd never have time for another child and rightfully so. Dorota is a busy woman now and when we found out she was pregnant, we really panicked!" Vanya exclaimed with a raise of his hands. "But everything turned out for the best. Sometimes, it's the least expected things that make us the happiest."

He looked towards Dan for confirmation of that statement and he nodded accordingly although he was not sure he agreed. He tried to add something, perhaps a remark on Leo, whom he had seen earlier, but it was hard to be eloquent in such an awkward situation. He was not sure how to avoid a collective conversation, one that would surely force him to address or be addressed by Blair. He was in the disagreeable mood of one who had been forced into something head first with no possibility of escape. There was nobody with whom he could form his own party in order to distract himself. Vanya was much too inclusive in his conversational skills and he had no inclination towards speaking with Dorota. The only other source of distraction was seated at his right and staring openly at Blair like she was a particularly interesting object.

He'd get nothing from Anna. Vanya had already warned him that she was a bit too outspoken and in no way did Dan want to provoke her.

"So, tell me!" Vanya asked and the moment of collective conversation was about to begin; Dan knew it. "How long has it been since you two have seen each other?"

_Well, not even a day ago but I'm sure you wouldn't know that._

"Quite a while." Dan offered noncommittally. He didn't look at her but at Vanya. "My work with _The New Yorker_ has sent me to too many places to keep up with anybody."

He really wanted for this to be a statement about his life without her. So of course, he had to elaborate.

"I could not stay one week without having to be off to some other place."

"Did you go to Disney Land?" Anna asked him dauntingly.

"Not for work but yes, when I was younger."

Anna was frowning a little and he found it so adorable. She was assuming the air of a child who wanted to be taken seriously. He wouldn't blame her. It must have felt a bit intimidating, but also boring, to have to sit with three other adults and listen to grownup chatter.

"We went to Disney World. Not Disney Land. It's bigger, you know. You should tell your job to send you there." Anna stated solemnly, seeming to believe that such a thing could happen.

"I'd love that but I don't think I could ask that." Dan played along.

"Then your job is boring." Anna decided before resuming her observation of Blair.

Vanya laughed at his daughter's statement and Dan joined in.

"She's got strong opinions." Blair said.

Vanya took a peek at the kitchen, making sure that Dorota was not listening before whispering:

"Dorota hates when I say it, but I'm sure it's all her mother."

"I am going to tell her." Anna exclaimed with a self-satisfied smirk before pushing her chair away and hopping to the floor.

Vanya watched her go to Dorota with the air of a resigned man. He had not grown too old, perhaps a little more bulky. It was bizarre to think that this is the same man who used to guard the doors of a rich people's building. Vanya had a family, children, something to go back home too. He never had to aspire to something larger than him. He was the picture of a happy man.

Dan never thought that he would one day be jealous of Vanya, but there he was, envying him. He was one of the few who had been so close to the Upper East Side without having been burnt by it. As far as he could tell, only Nate had escaped and not without consequences. Stories were still being printed about his affairs with older married women and many were lies that were spurred by vengeful cougars. It was hard not to feel for Vanessa, who had to deal with his previous reputation in their daily lives.

Dan remembered that time where he had imagined a whole life with Blair. It was not long after they had watched _Rosemary's Baby_ together, for how could he not wonder about it? He remembered hanging up the phone with that feeling of familiarity, like a most perplexing deja vu. The next morning, he had woken up with an immediate recollection of the previous night, of Blair's teasing and sarcasm; of his own remarks or the way she'd shush him during the scenes involving Minnie because they were her favorites. He had said that he was more partial to Mia Farrow but Blair only snorted at that because apparently, it was such a guy thing to say.

Did he want children? A wife? A trip to Disney World and silly photographs to go with it? Dan liked their apartment but it had nothing to do with the furniture, setting or decoration. It just felt like home, the way his loft used to feel before Rufus and Jenny left; that is before the Upper East Side and its people ruined them. The place felt inhabited. He could smell it in Dorota's cooking and see it from the scattered toys in the living room, the family pictures here and there or the way the sofa's signs of wear.

It made him long for something he knew he could not have. Not yet.

When Dorota finally joined them, it was with a cautious and guilty expression. Dan glared at her for having broken their agreement but she only smiled uneasily and redirected her attention to Vanya and Blair.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting. I wanted everything to be perfect." She offered as she set down the stew and a plate of spinach quiches toped with sautéed vegetables. Anna made a face, obviously not rejoicing at the sight of such greenery.

Dorota proceeded to fill everyone's plate and when it came to Dan's, he noticed that she was more generous than with others. No doubt she felt that she had done wrong.

When she was done, and everyone seated, they began eating. The action took away the need for conversation for a good fifteen minutes. Dan complimented her cooking, which was again proven to be delicious. It had been too long since he had had a good home-cooked meal.

Blair, in front of him, was eating at a slow pace, her eyes focused on her plate as if the brown mixture of the stew presented a fascinating subject of observation. He thought it safe to steal a glance or two, just to probe at her state of being. She was as awkward as he was, if not more. He, unlike her, had not been too close to neither Dorota or Vanya, and therefore, he had no greater reason to feel embarrassed at his lack of contact. Blair, on the other hand, was in a different position.

_Her hair is longer_, he notices. And the curls were a nice touch. He was reminded of her younger self and that made it harder not to stare. He caught Dorota's eyes and swiftly bent his own to his food. As the eating slowed to a pace that allowed discussion, Dan was forced into talking by no other than Vanya.

"Do you still write?"

He felt watched and he knew that there were more eyes than Dorota's on his person.

"Well, my job constantly requires me to." Dan replied but he felt he had sounded a bit condescending. "I'm stuck writing for the rest of my life."

"No, I did not mean work. I meant stories. Like your novels."

He was not sure how to answer that.

"I don't." Dan lied because saying the opposite would also be too close to an untruth.

Since _Outside_, Dan had found nothing to inspire him. He should have used his newly found freedom from Blair or the Van der Woodsen as an incentive to pursue any kind of storytelling he desired but it had not been the case. Instead, he had unfinished stories, half-proses and verses of poetry that all adopted the same sarcastic and bitter tone of his hero, Dylan Hunter. Dan wanted to write something lighter, truly humorous as supposed to a satire. He wanted to explore the life in New York, or just life in general, through eyes of a simple-minded protagonist but instead, he'd always find himself throwing sarcasm at every little detail that reminded him of his old life. It was wearisome to have to try almost every day and be unable to detach himself from Dylan Hunter, who had become a second skin to him.

Admitting to no writing at all seemed better than to give any sort of acknowledgment to his pitiful scribbling.

"Why?" The voice startled Dan because it was neither Vanya, nor Dorota. Not even Anna. It was Blair who asked the question.

She seemed surprised of her own audacity and he would not blame her for it. Unasked, his mind answered inwardly: because of _you_. But Dan could not accept this answer because it would bring him back to starting point and negate all the growing up and processes of forgetting he had gone through.

Dan found that when Blair looked at him with this shy interest, his heart rose involuntarily to a light flutter; it was almost imperceptible but still very much there. Deciding that ignoring her was out of the question, not while Vanya was around, he kept his gaze locked to hers.

"I'm not inspired anymore." Dan replied but he must have sounded like he was accusing her for how could he not? The very two novels he had managed to publish had been all due to her, the muse he would never admit to.

It was harder to bear her reaction. For a second, Blair appeared decidedly sad but not because she felt herself the object of his accusation. Instead, Dan thought, Blair seemed to be sad _for _him.

"You can try walking around the city." Dorota proposed. "If you don't find anything inspiring after five minutes of walk, then you're probably not in New York."

"Believe me, I've tried." Dan jumped on the occasion to distract himself from the sight of Blair. "I think I may just be afraid that whatever I'll write next won't be good enough."

"I don't think that's possible." Vanya stated as if it were law.

"Writers are never satisfied anyway." Dorota said with a wave of the hand. "One day, they want what's in the stories they write. They spend years building characters that don't exist and situations that may never happen." She glances at all of them before continuing, "But then, you go ahead and ask them if they ever wanted what's in their books and you know what they say? No. They come with all kinds of reasons about the imperfections of what they created because, that's apparently what a good writer does. It creates imperfect things."

"I'm not sure what you mean." Dan said. He had a feeling that Dorota was trying to make a point, a dangerous one.

"Do you write what you want or want what you write?" Dorota continued, eyeing him with a quiet defiance. He was not used to this Dorota at all.

He had always seen her as Blair's obedient maid and at the time, she had seldom been allowed to voice any opinion or if she did, it would always receive close to no acknowledgment. This was Dorota with a purpose in mind, one that she now had the liberty to carry out. "Because, this is what I think writers are struggling with. They're always in between these two thoughts."

He was becoming annoyed, and very quickly. He had a mind to ask her, and in the most brash tone, if she knew a lot of writers and whether or not she had quizzed them all on this. He didn't know why her questions bothered him. They just did. Nonetheless, Dan measured his tone and replied almost heartily.

"I think you have answered the question. I, like every writer, am a bit of both really."

Everyone around the table was looking at him and he took a bite of quiche to prevent him from meeting their eyes. He almost cursed at the crumbling of the dough, which fell on his plate and on the collar of his shirt.

"You must be more one than the other no?" Dorota pressed on.

"May be, but I haven't written in a long time so I wouldn't know."

Dorota had the good sense not to further the topic. He could see her intention from miles away and everything was pointing towards the troubled waters that were _Inside _and _Outside_.

Anna soon excused herself to go to her room, no doubt to indulge in more exciting activities than their conversation. Her parents seemed to think that she had had enough of adult company for the day so they allowed her to leave. Dan suddenly missed the little girl.

They were then moving to the living room where Dan had to ineptly make way for Blair as they both found themselves on the path of the other.

For some unknown reason, both Dorota and Vanya had excused themselves, leaving Dan and Blair alone in the living room. She sat, one leg crossed over the other while the feet on the ground tapped restlessly.

"I'm missing whipped cream for the dessert." Dorota hurried in. "Vanya's taking me. It won't be more than twenty minutes. Can you watch over Anna and Leo? She's in her room but if you hear anything…"

_A conspiracy, that's what this is._

The door closed almost too suddenly. Dan turned to glare at Blair.

"Hey, don't look at me like that!" She exclaimed with hurt. "I had nothing to do with this!"

"Really?"

"You think that I'd want to be stuck with _you_ for dinner and pretend that we're all merry like we've never been. Please."

Her frustration was fodder to his.

"So you're saying you haven't been trying to be friends again?" He counteracted. "This is just that but of course, you're Blair and you'll never confront a thing in your life, will you?"

Blair leaned forward on her seat, her mouth tight and her eyes shooting daggers.

"_I had no idea._" She hissed. "And I'll never be so desperate as to have recourse to such plans."

"Says the woman who spent her childhood scheming! And with no other than Dorota herself!"

Blair looked beyond herself for a moment and he was elated at having seemingly shut her out of a response. Yet, at the same time, he gradually began to see that she really had no idea about this. He knew Blair and when she lied, she was never so emotional or eager to defend herself.

"Fine. Believe what you want. I really don't care."

He knew it wasn't true.

They stayed in silence, she admiring an artifact on the side table while he merely looked the other way.

"Look," Dan began but Blair cut him short with a razor-sharp glare.

"You don't have to say anything. I get it, you don't want me around and I don't think I'd want to be around anymore."

"What do you mean?" He asked, betraying his worry. Could she mean going back to Paris? The prospect bothered him more than he wanted it too, as if Blair's place belonged here, in New York and her leaving would disturb this natural rule of things.

Blair was not looking at him. The strange artifact was now in her hands and her delicate finger stroked it idly. She made a picture worthy of a photograph because there was so much melancholy in the action. Right away, he saw Blair in that corridor a long time ago as if she had never really grown out of herself.

"I think…well, it's for the best. I'm quitting. At least, after I'm done with the cosplay piece." She didn't even raise her head to look at him.

"Blair…"

"No! This isn't me trying to guilt you into anything Dan. I've done that enough in the past."

"What will you be doing?"

There, she met his eyes and he saw that she had been hoping for another sort of reply. She had still expected for him to insist, to ask her to stay and Dan would do it. He wanted her to stay but he was not sure how to say it.

"I don't know. I'm through with Waldorf Designs but I suppose I could always swallow it up and fall back on it."

Silence fell back on them like a curse. He was trying to formulate some sentence, some way of preventing her to leave without sounding too emotionally involved but it was in those instances that Dan's talents with words failed him.

They heard a cry, which caused both of them to look at each other like the house had just caught on fire. It took him a few seconds to remember that Leo was there.

"Leo is crying!" They heard Anna shout from her room, somewhere in the confines of the apartment.

"I'll go." Blair stated. She left him alone.

He pondered on what to say while Leo still cried in the background. He had never wanted to be the kind of person who drove others away. The recollection of his behavior towards Blair made him grit his teeth. He had been insensitive in taking care of his own feelings. Who was he to ruin this experience for her? It must have already been hard for Blair to leave the comfort of something she knew for a job she was not at all familiar with. She was even trying her best, that, he could see.

About two minutes passed and still, Leo's cries echoed. Dan smiled to himself, trying to picture what Blair looked like in attempting to console the child. Before he was aware of his own doings, he walked towards the source of the noise.

He found Blair holding Leo in her arms in a rather awkward manner. His head was against her shoulder and she was craning her neck to look at him, trying to cradle him but failing quite endearingly. Blair was humming some song Dan could not recognize since Leo's voice drowned the melody almost entirely.

For a moment, Dan remained at the door, just watching with an inevitable smile. When she noticed his presence, she glared at him for the second time in the evening.

"Need help?" Dan suggested.

There was no fight to be put up because both of them could see that Leo was nowhere near stopping his cries as long as he remained in her arms. He walked up to her and carefully disentangled him from her (the poor baby's left arm had been enclosed between her torso and her own forearm in a position that looked highly uncomfortable), brushing fingers along with the movement.

He was not the most experience but Dan liked to think that his time with Milo had not been fruitless. When he looked down towards Leo, he was once more hit with a certain longing, a familiar one.

"Shhh." Dan kept repeating because he was generally bad at humming. Or singing. Fortunately, he knew how to cradle a baby and soon, Leo fell in a comfortable silence.

He had momentarily forgotten about Blair. That was an odd situation to be in, especially when she seemed to be harboring such softness in her brown eyes.

Scenarios of them together crashed upon him like waves of unmade memories. Leo, in his arms, was no more Dorota and Vanya's. He was his son. His and Blair's. He had never written about that but he remembered a time where he had wanted it. It had been as soon as she had kissed him in the hospital, in front of Serena. He had thought naively that this was it, that there could be no superior proof of her choice. If Blair could have fought for him despite Serena being her friend, he could have her. He could truly have her.

"Don't quit, Blair." Dan said. "Just don't. Because I'm over it. At least, I think. I'd hate to be the one to drive you away from something you obviously enjoy. I'm not that guy." He inhaled and lowered his voice. "And you're really good."

She smiled.

"You know, I really had no idea about tonight." Blair reinstated with a raise of the eyebrows.

"I know."

"She shouldn't have invited you." She insisted. "I mean…she knows I'd rather see Nate."

"Would you?" He said with a small chuckle.

"Oh, you doubt me?" She crossed her arms together in a matronly manner. "Nate would have been much more friendlier and conversational during that dinner."

Dan walked past her to lay Leo down in his crib. He made sure to cover him with his blankets before turning back to Blair.

"Blair, we both know that 'friendly' and 'conversational' have not been the best words to describe our relationship for the past ten years." He moved to the corridor so as not to disturb Leo. "You can't blame me. Or yourself."

"Certainly not."

"But, you would have wanted me to make an effort." Dan completed her silent sentence. "And I will." He stopped to really look at her. "I will try to be…friendlier. God, I sound like I was a bitch."

Blair laughed and he joined in.

"If it's any comfort, you were good at it. And I'm an expert."

"Yes, because that was exactly my ambition in life. Become Blair Waldorf 2.0."

They went back to the living room and the accursed silence visited them again. The kind of newfound comfort quickly left space to the huge 'we have not been friends for ten years' shadow. It was that corridor scene all over again except that it worked better when the both of them truly and mutually hated each other.

Dorota and Vanya came back and the fudge pie was served promptly. From then, the conversation was more fluid and Dan even caught himself sharing looks with Blair. There was a lot to be said and it was Blair who succeeded in directing the talks towards friendlier grounds. Where Chuck could have been mentioned, she successfully mentioned Nate and his company; where her actual job came up in the conversation, she managed to provide a vague, yet satisfying, explanation of her post as a cultural reporter for a fashion magazine. In the end, both of them luckily escaped the contriving issue of explaining their newfound positions at _W_.

When Dan took his leave, it was not without a swift smile towards Blair and a resigned one towards Dorota. He was not sure what the former maid was trying to accomplish but nonetheless, he had left the apartment feeling a little less conflicted.

The state of things between him and Blair had been an invisible pressure, always nagging him to check his behavior because he could simply not be nice and resentful at the same time. Yet now, Dan truly understood that the only way he would be entirely happy, especially in his budding relationship with Vivian, was to forgive and forget. And he could do it if he allowed himself to.

He supposed that Blair still had her fair share of catching up to do with Dorota for she did not show any signs of leaving. He preferred it that way. He suspected that he would be in their conversation, whether it came from Dorota or Blair but the thought didn't bother him much. They were friends and part of the reason why he had sought Dorota was so that Blair could find someone to talk to. He knew he would be a topic all along and the thought was vaguely thrilling for he remembered the time where he had loved Blair without her giving him any sign of encouragement. He had often wondered if she thought about him as more than a friend, the way a hopeful man in love would do. His talks of Blair with Eric or his father always ended up being fuel to his forlorn heart. Being the one actively reinforcing something that never got a chance to bloom was misery but this time, _he _was the subject of such talks. It felt singularly better; it flattered him even though he knew he should not like it. It was like being a writer who had been denied recognition by his target readers for most of his life only to decide that they are not worth it and _then_, finally, he receives the due criticism he had been waiting for. Frustration was to be felt in such situations but how can one not derive pleasure from it too?

Before going to sleep that night, Dan checked his _W _email to make sure that he had not missed anything important. Although Vivian made a good secretary, there were still things that he himself needed to attend to such as draft editing and the setting of deadlines. His inbox was filled with the usual emails from Lee and Flora, one from the layout team and the various blog notifications from each of the writers he employed. When he saw her name, he clicked automatically on the link.

He saw the picture before anything else. It was so infantile and yet, it became her so well. She wore some period dress and instead of that severe bob, there were two ponytails on each side of her head. Dan tried racking his brain for the last time he had seen Blair in such uncharacteristic state but nothing came to mind, except perhaps that moment where he had taken her to the Met in that frilly pink dress. Her smile was so genuine that he felt it creep upon his own lips.

Dan observed the picture for a while before he paid attention to the text underneath it.

_Thanks to Christan (the talented photographer) who apparently knows very well how to creep upon people without making a single noise, I managed to be immortalized in such costume. I'm not a anybody in particular, unless you count a Jane Austen heroine and Pippi Longstocking hybrid to be a valid cosplay character. I'm yet to be properly immersed into the rules of cosplaying but I'm gradually understanding its workings. _

_Here, you can see me with Jacqueline, one of the cosplayers who will be featured in the next issue. I must thank her for all the clothes she allowed me to try on and let me tell you, her wardrobe rivals the one of the best fashionistas in New York City! Stick around for more!_

In seeing the glee in her face, which had been so rare of late, Dan knew he had done right in urging her to remain with them. And in seeing her happy, he seemed to be happy too.

**I must again apologize for the inconsistency of my updating. Taking four English courses is quite heavy on the reading side (5 books just for one class!) but it is still no excuse! Again, to those who are still faithfully following this story, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope that you are not too angry with me. (please leave a review ****!)**

**I know that some of you expected more angst and frustration during the dinner scene but I think that Dan has had enough time for that. I also kind of wanted Dorota's plan to succeed. HOWEVER, the angst is far from being over. Let us remember that those two still haven't had a proper talk about the way things ended between them. It'll eventually come.**

**What I can promise for the next chapter is more of Natessa and Lee, but also Christan. I'm yet reluctant to add a Dan/Vivian scene (you guys really don't like her, do you?) but it may be necessary. I'm still trying to follow a trajectory here. **

**So, we'll be jumping to the actual film festival, in which Blair does quite a surprising thing…**

**Stay tuned!**

**And review, if you find it in you!**

**(Also, lovelycupcake, I have yet to reply to your pm. I have not forgotten!)**


	8. Behind the Veil

**First of all, a HUGE thank you for everybody who reviewed! No, seriously, you guys all rock!**

**Guest, Kiyomaro-kun (thanks for that nice review!), drhandbcw, Guest (don't worry about not having an account, I always enjoy your reviews, no matter what!), Lovehate1231, DH, moanmp, horchata, Rf, Rommel82, Avery, Njooge, Magnus57 (as always, thank you from the bottom of my heart), Guest, Tabitha, Guest, TheSmallSpoon, WordsIcantsay, DuchessQueen, frenchyy, palmtree4665, DD and TieDyeJackson, Elle, DoubleCaramel, Guest and Guest.**

**Let me also address some of your critiques (and I thank you for that) because I can't reply to Guest reviewers, which sucks. So I kind of have to do it here. (You can skip to the story part if that doesn't interest you).**

**So first, the nice Guest reviewer who left me quite an elaborate review. I must say that it was enlightening and I am definitely now posed with a problem. You are right to say that after ten years, Dan should not even care a little bit about Blair. I guess that I could try to say something about how I envisioned the story. I think that Dan was really in love with Blair (he wrote a book about her) and that it wasn't just a casual sort of love. I genuinely believe that she was the love of his life, no matter what the show tried to tell us (boo season 6!) and I think that the lack of break-up or resolution (I started writing this fic after the season 5 finale and I never watched season 6, nor do I recognize it as canon either) is may be why Dan is not truly over her. But you are completely right as well because 10 years is an awful long amount of time (I'm face-palming now and I should probably have made that time be 5 years instead!). As for Blair, you are also right and I definitely don't want people to feel sorry for her. I'm sorry if that feeling came across in my story because although I do give her a point of view, I also want the readers to see that it is essentially her fault that she can't have Dan. But also, being Blair, she doesn't give up. Does that mean that Dan should fall into her open arms right away? Of course not! Because she has wronged him. Also, my intention was to reveal her relationship with Chuck gradually (and not all into one chapter because it's too much Chuck and not interesting to digest all at once) throughout the fic. However, I don't want it to be easy and make Chuck the bad guy who assaulted her and abused her. I think there are many other reasons why they both don't work together, which is why she is even more attracted to Dan than ever. Blair, in seeing him again, remembers what she could have had. She also remembers that she was the main character of his book. But you are right! I did portray Blair as a bit pitiful and I think she should assume that everything is her fault. Which is why your review has helped me a great deal in readjusting my story! So thank you very much and I hope you keep giving me your constructive criticism!**

**As for DD, thank you too for your review. I do see your point about the connection. I haven't yet reached the point where I feel Dan and Blair can finally become their old selves and have that connection they used to have. I'm trying to write them as adults and I think I'm struggling a little with adapting that. My point is: I want to reshape their relationship as I envision it after ten years of estrangement. But you are right too! I must focus on rekindling their relationship and I hope this chapter gives a hint of such a thing. **

**(Also, I am awfully in love with my Christan character and I totally see what you mean by wanting Blair to end up with him. I cannot do it for reasons that this is a Dair fic and that I love Dair too much BUT I am willing to write an alternate ending in which she ends up with Christan. But you'll have to keep reading and decide whether it's still something you want. Actually, you know what? I will write that Christan/Blair ending because I selfishly love him too)**

**OVERALL, I am so happy that you guys give me such good comments and critiques. I write for all of you (and a little bit for myself) and I'd hate to disappoint anybody. I know it's still my story but it always helps to be given directions or warnings. So please, continue to do that. Also, all those up for a Christan/Blair alternate ending, holla at me! However, it'll come in a quite a while.**

**Oki, here is the story at last!**

The Gothic Film Festival was a week away and already Blair felt an odd kind of excitement. In the past, such events were only deserving of her scorn, being reserved for over-enthusiastic people. It had taken her time and a great many disappointments to realize that there were things, places and people in New York worth discovering and talking about.

She sat at her office space, finishing up a blog entry in which she talked of her enthusiasm at the prospect of attending the event. She had no photograph to attach to this one but Blair thought that the last one had been enough of a courageous move already. Instead, she rambled on about her desire to meet the featured cosplayers dressed in the final products of their months of efforts. She could not wait to interview them, especially Jacqueline. The movies in themselves were not of interest. It was the people, the activities, and the gatherings that she longed to see.

Lee just came into the room and she greeted him with a smile. He walked to her little desk with a large smile plastered on his intelligent face and smacked down rather loudly a copy of the magazine.

At first, Blair didn't realize what he was trying to do because the business of the magazine had been relegated to an unvisited corner of her mind for a good while. All that mattered was her feature and she had poured her soul into the thing without ever thinking of the final print. It seemed surprising to Blair, considering she had always thought _W_ magazine an important part of her life. She had always been subscribed to it and held almost a religious-like regard for her copies.

"Your article!" Lee exclaimed, feeling no need to elaborate. With the actual copy in front of her, Blair needed no more encouragement.

"This is the final approved copy, fresh off the printer."

"Where did you get it from?" Blair inquired as she flipped through it. The models and perfume ads were entirely ignored as she finally reached the 'Arts and Culture' section.

For a few seconds, her eyes roamed over the words she had spent hours choosing, the pictures of the candidates she had managed to find and then, that little corner, almost unnoticed but there nonetheless _Blair Waldorf_.

Such a little distinction was all the difference. This was her work, her own research. Finally, there was something that stood independently of her mother's name and she was filled for the first time with a writer's pride. Her day could not get better, she felt. Her eyes met Lee's, which seemed to reflect a shared feeling of pride.

"I think Dan will probably hand us a copy, you know, _officially_, today. I'm sorry I spoiled the surprise. I know someone who works near the prints." Lee said not looking the least bit sorry. "Hey, don't forget to check my article! I know I didn't score a long feature but I can swear that the Moroccan restaurant is worth reading about."

She indulged him and turned to his page.

"I might actually try that place." Blair offered after having read the short review. "It sounds nice."

Lee shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know much about restaurants. I don't even know if people actually feel inclined to visit a place just from a magazine article. I always thought these reviews were there to fill the space."

"They're necessary! You can't advocate a stylish lifestyle without a food section." Blair argued.

"I am a creative writer. Writing restaurant reviews is like pressing down a pillow on my creativity."

"That was not very inspired for a 'creative writer'."

He only raised his arms comically. "I can't produce a complex metaphor out of the blue!" He moved to his chair, a few feet away. "By the way, did you appoint your photographer for the festival? I'm only asking because the week will be busy. There is two come-back tours and two film premieres I think. Better make sure you have someone. Thank God I managed to call Andrea…"

"Don't I just keep the same one?"

Lee pivoted slowly, which gave the effect of a dramatic turn before he gave an answer. "If you want to."

"Yes, but is it not already understood that I should have my photographer for the event?" Blair further asked, feeling a little anxious. Without a skilled photographer without Christan her feature would be a flop. She could admit openly to his great talent now that she could see the pictures mounted with the article. Everything looked so well put together, so interesting. It was almost unreal that it should be her work.

She could not afford to lose Christan.

After a meeting with Dan and the other writers during which Blair felt entirely awkward, she quickly sought the photographer's space. Dan had not ignored her, had not even been remotely unpleasant but it seemed to do nothing to appease her lingering wretchedness. There was a time when he would have actively sought her company, when she would receive texts at two in the morning and sigh a discontented 'Humphrey!' before answering nonetheless. Now, it was probably Vivian who was the recipient of such texts and who had the pleasure of Dan's unaffected attention, who could be guiltless in approaching him because she had not broken his heart the way Blair had done. Her mind was stuck on that refrain. At times, Blair would think a spiteful "What is she even doing here? She is no writer…She hasn't contributed to any of those meetings!" but the more bitterness she could gather against that girl, the less satisfied she was. In her Constance days, swearing a profound hatred for someone was almost enough to get her through her own anger…Now, it worked no more.

It didn't help that Dan had handed her copy with a smile akin to the one he'd give to Lee or the others.

"Great job Blair." Dan had said, making a brief eye contact before handing her the copy. Then he had moved on to others. Just like that.

That's why Blair left the meeting room in a hurry. She had no right to be angry. In fact, she should be happy. She tried to convince herself that she was.

Blair found Christan next to one of the darkrooms. He was leaning against the wall, apparently not doing anything. She walked assuredly towards him although she was not certain on how to approach him. Being in her thirties had never been more obvious to her than when she was next to Christan.

"So, you're my photographer next week right?" She had tried so hard to sound casual but somehow, it came out very authoritative. She softened her expression with a smile, hoping to inject some friendliness but he seemed unmoved.

"Oh I don't know." He replied very nonchalantly.

"You don't know?"

Had Christan been a little more expressive, Blair could probably have extracted some meaning from his utterance. But he was not and she stood dumbly, waiting for some clarification. He watched her steadily, with unwavering indifference.

"You're not exactly pleasant."

How many times had she heard that in her life? Her first response was to assume a defensive stance; her ego was always easy to bruise. However, she knew that it was exactly the reaction Christan expected from her and for some unknown reason, other than her need to have _him_ cover her story, Blair wanted to be _pleasant_.

"I understand." Blair stated calmly.

He was still staring at her but the beginning of a smile was forming at the corner of his lips. She saw a dimple faintly reveal itself.

"I'll do it but I have a condition." Christan said, "I'll be extremely bored…Costume players, B-listed movies and drunk Bellatrixes… it's nothing I haven't already seen as much as it may seem new to you. It might sound great for this magazine, and hip and the new 'cool' or whatever you're trying to shape it into but for me, it'll be like four years ago."

"Four years ago?"

"I had my fair share of cosplaying when _The Dark Knight Rises_ came out. I'm never going back to that unless I can extract a good price out of it."

"I'll just remind you that you do get a salary for complying. I'm not sure what they told you when you were hired but you are not in a position to be picky."

"Oh, I could just as well cover Fiona's NYU fashion show which happens to be exactly on the same day."

Blair sighed. He was not making anything easy.

"What is your condition?" She asked reluctantly.

Christan swept his hair aside with one hand. He had long fingers with protruding sinews and veins omnipresent on a fair skin. She thought that his hands were very attractive, the kind that seemed agile and minute.

"You're going to a cosplaying convention. It'll be a shame not to take part in it."

"You want me to wear a costume?" Blair blurted. "I'm in my thirties. I have no costume and no interest. What would I even go as…I mean…"

Christan leaned forward away from the wall, suddenly willing to be interested in the conversation. His expression of triumph distressed her.

"I'm not accepting!" Blair defended before he took her excuses as an invitation to be convinced.

"Then I'll be heading to NYU next Friday." Christan smirked boyishly. "You do know that there'll be fifty years olds there, dressed as provocatively as any of the young ones? You can even wear a mask if you fear the ridicule that much."

"It's not my thing." She replied categorically.

"Suppose you make it your thing?"

"You make no sense."

"Come on. Why are you even doing a feature on cosplaying if you're not at least a little bit interested in it?"

He had a point and Blair did not want to consider her real answer to that question. It was all to impress Dan was it not? She could hide behind a pretense of wanting to experience new things and what not but ultimately it was for Dan.

Suddenly, it seemed unfair and inauthentic. She needed to be doing it for herself first.

"Alright."

His eyebrows rose.

"Are you serious?" He did not seem adequately excited.

"Yes. Don't push me or I'll change my mind."

"The costume?"

"I'll take care of it."

He nodded. She saw the look of veiled appraisal that he gave her. It lurked at the back of his blue eyes, almost like a proud and timid creature. Oddly, her heart responded to it and she felt a smile threatening to break out on her lips and ruin her composed expression. The same vague odor of cigarettes and cologne hung around him. It hit her much more acutely this time, as if, triggered by his look, her body had awakened. Blair tried to keep eye contact but the fear of being betrayed hindered the initiative. He seemed the observant type despite of his careless attitude.

"Well, see you next Friday I guess." Christan said with a smile.

It was only just then that she remembered Dan was also going to the festival.

**Of course, Blair was never going to parade in the streets of New York wearing a **_**costume**_**. **Fortunately the weather was favorable to wearing one her favorite wardrobe must-have: the trench coat. The creation underneath her long Burberry overcoat was concealed well from the eyes of those she had long loved to call 'commoners'.

It seemed so fitting for the day to be gloomy. The October rains were falling hard as she descended to the reception of her building. The darkness of the hall was a prelude to the film festival itself. Blair felt excited.

She had gone for a regency gown, all in black silk with lace draping, around the bare shoulders. The dress had a revealing cut according to the fashion of the time but it seemed an appropriate amount of sexy. Her hair had been braided by no other than Dorota, who had insisted to be involved in the preparations. Blair tried very hard to seem nonchalant about the matter of Dan's presence but her friend's looks were impossible to evade.

Perhaps, the thing Blair was most proud of was the mourning hat with the black veil. She held it in her hands, unsure if she should walk outside with it. Christan was supposed to meet her with the company's car in about ten minute.

Her fingers played with the veil while she considered her options. The thing did not look ridiculous much; in fact, she had seen a few celebrities sporting it in the past. The problem was Christan himself. There was Dan too but the possibility of meeting him on the large grounds of the festival was not as threatening as the immediacy of seeing Christan.

_I'm too old for this_. Was it not utterly ridiculous? Christan was probably in it for the laughs. He'd get a good sight and it would probably get immortalized on camera…

She wished she could just go back to her wardrobe and pick a simple black dress instead.

It was too late. She could see the car from the glass doors. Her heart and stomach were tied into unfeasible knots. In a matter of few seconds, Blair would be seen and assessed. For some reason, it felt like a test she needed to pass.

"Well, there is only one way of doing it." Blair exclaimed aloud. She checked her wine-red lipstick one last time. The hat was carefully deposited on her head. Almost dramatically, she pulled down the veil in front of her face. Christan would only discern her lips.

Back straightened but head bowed like a mourning woman, Blair walked out of the building. The rain plowed the concrete ground around her. Its sound was stimulating. When she reached the car, she almost forgot to be worried.

He opened the door and she avoided his eyes. She climbed in carefully, trying to avoid rumpling her clothes.

"Woah." Christan exclaimed and this time, it was a true exclamation. There was no sarcasm, indifference, nonchalance or lack of emotional engagement in the word. It was gratifying.

"Wait until you see the dress before making assumptions." Blair warned.

But Christan only stared openly and it was then that she noticed he was wearing a bloodied butler livery.

"I thought you were over cosplaying?" She asked with surprise.

"I did this for moral support." He replied.

They were sitting way too close for he had moved towards her side of the seat to open the door. Even through the veil, his eyes found hers and there it was, an unguarded want. Well, she thought that's what it was. She was older and liked to think that she could recognize things better now.

The worse was realizing that she felt it too. Somehow, that young man had managed to crawl under her skin. His frustrating silences and incredible ability to tolerate the worst of her neurotic fits was always going to lead to admiration. He was not odd. He was like so many others. He didn't have Dan's way with words. He had nothing of a mature look. He would never speak novels with her or watch old French documentaries about orangutans. She had no history with him except the past few weeks. And she hated his looks.

But not now. With the butler's outfit and his hair slicked back, he made a quite a sight.

"We're matching." She said with an incredulous laugh. Of course, he had not seen her dress yet but she thought it all so coincidental.

"We are?"

"Yes. You'll see." She could not speak any more words. She was thankful for the veil.

"Where to now?" The driver asked them.

The distraction was enough to call Blair back to her senses. She shifted on her seat and Christan moved away from her. She saw him take out his mobile phone and thought of doing the same. It saved them both the trouble of trying.

**The place was swarmed but it looked like a mourning ceremony gone wrong**. The color black was predominant on all costumes. Glimpses of burgundy and purple could be had but they were like salt grains on an onyx ground. The music was an ominous melody, strangely sensual. Blair wanted to dislike the atmosphere. No, she wanted to dislike the whole thing. It was unlike her in every aspect and yet, she loved it.

She thought of Chuck. She imagined his reaction if only he knew what she was doing. The thought filled her with exhilaration. Here she was, with Christan as a bloody butler with a camera hanging around the neck, dressed as a mournful Marianne Dashwood. He wouldn't even recognize her.

Christan eyed her openly when her trench coat was removed. He did not say anything though. Blair suspected that one 'woah' was already much more passion than what he was used to express in a day.

It was hard to guess what the attendees were there for. The schedule of the movie screenings was displayed on various screens around the place but the crowd never seemed to diminish. The cosplayers were the dominant members but there were many journalists, hipsters with friends and curious old folks as well. Blair thought that those who were _not _wearing a costume of any sort were probably the only ones there truly interested in the movies.

They managed to find their cosplayers. Christan was not much vocal. His photography always took his whole attention.

Blair looked around all the time, absorbing the oddity of this festival. There was never a boring sight to be found. She herself was the object of observation; many people even asked to photograph her. She did not see the problem, especially since she was wearing a convenient veil covering her face.

But deep down she knew. Her eyes, which had been entertained by all the costumes, lights and people, were seeking him. And every time, when a mass of curly hair would turn out to belong to someone else, to a stranger, she would frown in disappointment.

Illogically, she wanted to see him. The crowd and Tristan had polished her confidence. She was rocking the dress and the veil.

Dan needed to see her.

"Are you looking for someone?" Christan asked her after they were done with Jacqueline. Blair had a lot to say to her but the latter was engaged for one of the screenings of an Anne Rice novel adaptation.

"No."

"Good. We're done with the feature right?"

"I believe so." Her eyes wandered again to the left. The entrance was on that side and she would not miss him if he came in.

"Then, I guess we're allowed to have fun now."

"Fun?"

"I didn't get a chance to immortalize you, though many others did. I should have the privilege too."

"I'm not photogenic…I tried modeling once and was lamely outshined by my friend. You would have been much better off catching me by surprise like you did at Jacqueline's place."

He was preparing his camera as if she had accepted.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah." He adjusted the lens, his long fingers playing with the zoom ring.

She watched him in silence. Unexpectedly, he raises the camera. Her hand flies up instinctively although the gesture was useless; her veil was enough to cover up her face.

"Did you…did you just take a picture?" She stuttered.

Christan smiled.

"Unbelievable. That's what you are. I don't want to."

"You'll have to." He sounded bored again. He took her by the arm and pulled her somewhere. She followed him through the crowd, asking no question.

_If he seriously thinks…What an annoying bum. _

So lost she was in her thoughts that she did not notice the very person she had been looking for. It was Christan, leading with an nonnegotiable strength and firmness, who drew her attention to Dan.

"Hey Dan. Didn't think you'd make it." Christan greeted with a laugh but he did not stop walking.

A thousand different thoughts flooded her mind but only one stood out: _Blair Waldorf, you are wearing a freaking costume._ Never had she felt more self-conscious in her life.

Dan had always made her feel that way for varying reasons. In her teenage years, the simple thought of Lonely Boy witnessing her in any embarrassing position had trumped everything else; Chuck, she could manage. Had she not drunk herself to a stupor many times around her ex-husband? Hell, at the Vitrola, Blair had stripped in front of him. But if Dan, with his judgmental eyes and middle class superiority…she had never wanted him to see the worst of her.

Then, when they became friends, the self-consciousness changed. She did not fear his judgment. She wanted to be _better_, as if somehow their burgeoning friendship had moved something fundamental in her core. Blair was redefined and that's what must have frightened her…that knowledge that Dan could make her feel such positivity, such lightness. She was Blair and she was bound to mess up. She could not have lived under the knowledge that he was too good for her.

The crowd was thick and she raised her head. He was a few feet away, dressed in a black suit with a midnight shirt, his hair curly as ever. She noticed he had not shaved. Next to him, she saw the mass of auburn hair so characteristic of Vivian. She was wearing a costume too, except that it was rather puzzling. It seemed like a corset-combination, laced everywhere even in the most unlikely places. She wore a long overcoat of a deep purple with lace frills around the wrists. The color clashed almost audibly with her hair and the whole thing was downright telling of Vivian's questionable taste in clothing.

It gave her a savage pleasure, this mental diatribe against the woman. There was a sinking sensation inside her that arose from seeing their hands connected. She could only appease it with some form of taunting even though she knew it was the wrong way to go. Christan was pulling her away and she could pass unacknowledged.

The passing was narrow. Blair thought of keeping her head down. Both Dan and his escort would not recognize her. She wanted to be acknowledged but then, she could not. Not with Vivian around. It'll be awkward and the girl knew about her and Dan. She'll see the implied accusation in her eyes.

Head facing the ground, she allowed Christan to lead. She reached Dan's side, her heart beating maddeningly. Vivian was saying something to him or to no one in particular. Blair heard something about the turnout being amazing this year.

"Blair?" She heard him say. Her breath stuck in her throat, she raised her eyes because she could not ignore him, not right now. Through the veil, she beheld his gaze for a short instant. She wanted to say something, to greet him nonchalantly but the way he watched her was paralyzing.

There was a smile too, almost intimate as if it were only the two of them. It was the kind that reached his brown eyes. She hadn't seen those in a long while, not for her anyway. He was amused. Of course he would be!

She thought he was going to say something but Christan ruthlessly urged her forward. The moment was gone. She might not see him again for the day.

**I was planning for this to be much much longer but I know you guys cannot wait so I cut it short. Please, do review if you have it in you! I love you all, you know that. I am sorry that I am bad with updating. But I want you to know that I have no intention of abandoning any of my Dair fics. It's just taking me time!**

**(Also lovelycupcake, I shall reply to your PMs eventually! Désolée ma chère!)**

**Obviously, Dan and Blair will see each other again ;-)**


	9. Not an update (sorry) but a message

**Alright, this is not an update but I just want to address some of the reviews I have been getting. (Btw, THANK YOU ALL for leaving criticism. I always take it to heart, which is why I am writing this right now)**

**For one, as much as I want to please you readers I do STILL have my plan for this fic. It will remain a Dair fanfic and will have a Dair ending. I understand that my love for my OC Christan is transparent and that it has been communicated to a lot of you. Some of you are concerned that it'll detract from the Dair storyline. **

**I'll reiterate it again, I refuse to use Christan as a mere obvious prop for Dair. He is an instrument of growth for Blair. I have no intention on taking the easy route with him. **

**I understand you want more Dair interactions (all coming next chapter) and you are worried that this fic will turn into a Blair/OC story. Since the consensus (from all the reviews) is that I'm obviously going the wrong way, I shall correct that in the best way I can.**

**Some of you are concerned that this fic is aimed at pleasing reviewers more than anything else. I worry a lot about criticism and I always want to address everyone of your opinion. I'm struggling with that right now. But pleasing one reader will lead to another reader's displeasure. So ultimately, (and I am finally grasping it right now) I will write what I see fit I guess :-P. My thanks to the many reviewers who have pointed it out. **

**But I do write mainly for you readers. I love your reviews and I am always anxious to please. I must work on overcoming that. Ultimately, I do hope that nobody has been put off from this fic. I will try not to address critiques on my updates, unless by PM if you have an account. If you're willing to stick around, I will be much obliged. I shall do my very best with the plan I have in mind.**

**Also, I see that nobody seems to like Vivian :-P but she is bound to stick around a little more, just like Christan. I will remind you once again that I don't plan on taking the easy way but I don't want this to be much of a soap opera either (as one reviewer helpfully pointed out). Be patient. It makes sense for Dan to be seeing her. And I PLEDGE that it'll be more Dair-centric from now on. The latest chapter was meant to have one long Dair interaction but I had to cut it short so I could get an update out there.**

**And no, I do not think that having an alternate ending deters from enjoying this story (it won't even be part of this fic). It won't be much of an alternate ending rather than a reconstruction of this fic. I think you can very much enjoy this one in any case. **

**But ultimately, you all came for the D (Dair hahahah) and you shall get the D. I PROMISE IT! It'll just take time.**

**Also, Magnus57, The UES Killers is DEFINITELY NEXT! I am so sorry. I just kept getting a lot of messages for At W to be updated and I lost **


End file.
